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THE  POLITICIAN 


The  Politician 


By  EDITH  HUNTINGTON  MASON 


Author  of  "The  Real  Agatha,"  etc. 


WITH  FOUR  ILLUSTRATIONS  IN  COLORS 
BY  THE  KINNEYS 


A.  L.  BURT  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS  NEW  YORK 


COPYRIGHT 

BY  A.  C.  MCCLURG  &  Co. 
1910 

Published  April  9,  1910 
Second  Edition  April  30,  1910 


Entered  at  Stationers'  Hall,  London,  England 


To  E.  P.  P. 

WHOSE  FRIENDSHIP  HAS  MADE  IT 
POSSIBLE  FOR  ME  TO  WRITE  THIS  BOOK 


SRLF. 
URI. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I  AFTER  FOUR  YEARS    .      .     t.     t..  -.-  .  9 

II  PATRIOTISM  AND  PEANUTS     .      .  .  .  24 

III  "  FOR  THE  HUNDREDTH  TIME  "  ..  .  .  56 

IV  POLITICS  AND  LETTERS    ,.      .      .  ,.  t.  69 
V.  "  HERE  WE  ARE,  CORA  ! "     .     ,.  .  .  93 

VI  THE  EPISODE  OF  THE  BRACELET  .     :.      .   10^ 

VII  FAME,  LOVE,  AND  FORTUNE  .      .      *      .   119 

VIII  MRS.  GIBBS  ON  "  RESPONSIBILITY  "  .      .   131 

IX  TEMPTATION    .      . 155 

X  "  WHO    KNOWS   BUT   THE   WORLD   MAY 

END  TO-NIGHT?"  .      .      .      .      .     ,.   177 

XI  VERNEY  TAKES  THE  VEIL     .     t.      .      .196 

XII  THE  STRUGGLE  AT  SARATOGA    ,.      .      .214* 

XIII  "FRIENDS,  How  GOES  THE  FIGHT?"    .   232. 

XIV  RIVALS      ,.      . 248; 

XV  THE  ONE  THING  A  WOMAN  MUST  NOT 

SAY    ....     ;.      ....   258; 

XVI  LIGHT 274 

XVII  THE  FURY  OF  A  WOMAN  SCORNED    .     ..   283 

XVIII  WHAT  MONEY  CANNOT  BUY  .  .  298 


The  Politician 
Contents — Continued 

•CHAPTEE  PAGE 

XIX      "  So   THEY   DEEW   ON   TOWAEDS   THE 

HOUSE  OP  THE  INTEEPEETEB  "  ^    .,.  318 
XX      [VEENEY  LOSES  His  TEMPEE  ..    t.j     M    ....  348 
XXI     **  NOT  LAUNCELOT  OE  ANOTHEE  "  M    .„  374 
XXII     ««I    ALWAYS    WANT    MOST    WHAT    I 

CANNOT  HATE"    .*    M    ,.i    M    M    w  395 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 


"  Is  n't  that  sacrificing  too  much  ?  "  .      .      .     Frontispiece 

"  Did  n't  you  even  tell  your  best  friend,  when  they 

proposed?" 64 

"  Any  one  rather  than  the  present  Governor  "  .,     ..      .   226 
"Why  did  this  happen  to  me?"    ...     .,     ..     .      .      .   316 


THE    POLITICIAN 


CHAPTER  I 

AFTER  FOUR  YEARS 

THE  first  warm  days  of  June  held  the  city  in 
their  grasp,  and  the  far-famed  lake  breeze  was 
traitorously  absent  from  the  streets.  Yet  in 
spite  of  the  heat,  the  doors  of  the  great  structure 
where  the  Republican  National  Convention  was  being 
held  continued  to  engulf  their  thousands.  For  blocks 
on  both  sides  of  Sixteenth  Street,  cars  and  carriages  and 
automobiles  were  bringing  more  guests  of  the  conven- 
tion to  add  to  the  crowd  that  already  seemed  to  fill 
Wabash  Avenue  from  side  to  side.  A  fluctuating  mass, 
the  people  ebbed  and  flowed  against  the  front  of  the 
Coliseum,  animated  by  but  one  purpose,  to  get  within 
its  four  walls. 

In  such  a  concourse  the  arrival  of  this  and  that  unit 
by  carriage  or  automobile  was  unremarked,  and  the 
limousine  which  contained  the  party  of  Mrs.  Horace 
Cumloch  paused  in  its  turn  before  the  high-arched 
entrance,  deposited  its  passengers,  and  then  pursued  its 
difficult  way  onward  through  the  crowd  without  at- 
tracting particular  attention.  Of  the  few  spectators 

[9] 


The  Politician 

of  this  incident  whose  participation  in  the  feverish 
spirit  of  the  hour  did  not  keep  them  from  curiously 
scrutinizing  their  betters,  none  appreciated  the  fact 
that  the  tall  lady  in  black  and  white  with  the  beau- 
tiful gray  hair,  who  stepped  first  from  the  machine, 
was  the  widow  of  a  prominent  Chicago  millionaire  and 
a  well-known  figure  in  the  society  of  earlier  days,  or  their 
inspection  of  the  new  arrivals  would  have  been  more 
curious  still.  Neither  did  any  realize  that  the  young 
girl  in  the  linen  suit  and  wide  black  hat  who  accom- 
panied her  was  Miss  Harriet  Rand,  a  debutante  of  sev- 
eral seasons,  much  travelled,  much  praised  and  still  un- 
spoiled, and  incidentally  heiress  of  the  late  Willard  T. 
Rand,  merchant  prince.  Yet  that  the  party  were 
"  somebodies  "  was  immediately  and  unanimously  con- 
ceded, for  distinction  though  unannounced  is  a  quality 
that  in  itself  commands  attention,  and  these  people  were 
distinguished.  Besides  Mrs.  Cumloch  and  her  niece 
there  were  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lawrence  Presbey,  very  well 
known  among  the  young  married  people  of  the  city,  and 
George  Calvert  Benton,  notable  in  that  company  not 
so  much  for  the  rather  large  fortune  which  he  possessed 
as  for  his  persistent  and  assiduous  courtship  of  Miss 
Harriet  Rand. 

"  Don't  you  love  the  Coliseum?  "  remarked  Mrs.  Pres- 
bey, whose  smart  attire  and  well-kept  hair  served  her 
in  the  place  of  beauty,  when  they  had  reached  the  interior 
gloom  of  the  big  building.  "  It  always  reminds  me  of 
the  horse  show  or  a  circus;  doesn't  it  you,  Harriet?" 
she  added,  as  they  mounted  the  flight  of  stairs  that 

[10] 


After  Four  Years 

led  to  the  section  where  Mr.  Presbey  and  George  Benton 
were  already  endeavoring  to  find  their  seats.  But  Har- 
riet had  no  smiling  rejoinder  to  make  to , this  frivolity. 

"  I  should  n't  think  the  Republican  National  Con- 
vention would  make  you  think  of  a  circus,  Cornelia,"  she 
said;  and  the  emphasis  on  the  last  word  as  well  as  the 
girl's  compressed  lips  and  earnest  eyes  convinced  Mrs. 
Presbey  at  once  that  she  had  said  the  wrong  thing. 

"  Harriet  is  so  intense ! "  she  whispered  to  Mrs.  Cum- 
loch,  as  Miss  Rand  pressed  ahead  of  them  in  her  eager- 
ness to  see  the  great  spectacle  she  knew  was  awaiting  her 
at  the  top  of  the  steps. 

"  She  is  also  sincere,'*  replied  Mrs.  Cumloch,  "  and 
you  have  n't  any  idea  how  interested  she  is  in  politics, 
or  how  much  she  knows  on  the  subject.  It  is  really 
quite  extraordinary  to  hear  her — " 

A  burst  of  music  from  the  band  at  the  far  end  of  the 
building  interrupted  the  sentence ;  and  as  they  reached 
the  top  step  of  their  climb,  the  full  view  of  the  con- 
vention burst  upon  them.  It  had  reached  Harriet  — 
mounting  just  ahead  of  them  —  first,  and  held  her  now 
speechless  and  enthralled  in  the  middle  of  the  aisle ;  lips 
parted,  hands  clasped,  and  dark  eyes  twice  their  natural 
size  in  their  effort  to  take  the  majestic  measure  of  that 
impressive  scene.  Far  and  wide,  wave  on  wave,  stretched 
the  rows  of  faces  back  to  the  four  walls  of  the  great 
oblong  building,  where  the  crowded  galleries  met  them 
with  more  faces;  and  high  above  them  all,  the  arch  of 
the  flag-bedecked  dome  roofed  them  in  and  echoed  the 
throbbing  hum  of  their  excitement.  The  details  of  the 

[11] 


The  Politician 

picture  —  the  cage  full  of  musicians  where  it  hung  in 
mid-air  at  the  end  opposite  her ;  the  white  placards  bear- 
ing the  section  numbers,  which  dotted  the  vast  area  like 
flecks  of  foam  on  an  inky  sea;  and  in  particular  the 
group  of  black-coated,  black-moustached  delegates  from 
the  South  who  stood  in  the  aisle  just  below  her,  appealed 
not  at  all  to  Harriet ;  only  the  magnitude  of  the  scene, 
only  the  wide  desert  of  faces  above,  below,  and  around 
her.  Motionless  she  stood,  drinking  it  all  in;  and  be- 
hind her  Mrs.  Cumloch  and  Mrs.  Presbey,  affected  quite 
as  much  by  the  girl's  feeling  as  by  the  sight,  stood  also 
motionless. 

It  was  a  sight  worth  looking  at,  a  sight  to  stir  the 
hearts  of  true  Americans,  independent  of  party  con- 
siderations. For  whatever  his  politics,  that  American 
who  looked  upon  it  for  the  first  time  must  have  thrilled 
at  the  spectacle  of  so  much  organized  power,  and  ac- 
corded it  the  respect  which  the  outer  and  visible  signs 
of  the  inner  workings  of  a  great  Government  cannot  but 
inspire. 

It  was  Mrs.  Cumloch  who  at  length  took  pity  on  the 
men  of  the  party,  who  were  gesticulating  weirdly  from  a 
section  farther  down  the  aisle,  very  much  as  if  they  were 
leading  a  college  cheer.  "  Come,  my  dear,"  she  said  to 
Harriet ;  "  they  're  waiting  for  us,"  and  the  girl,  her 
usually  clear,  colorless  skin  pink  with  excitement,  fol- 
lowed with  unseeing  eyes  past  rows  of  people  and  took 
her  seat,  still  under  the  spell  of  her  first  sight  of  a 
convention,  and  without  even  observing  the  programme 
which  the  attentive  Benton  held  out  to  her. 

[12] 


After  Four  Years 

They  had  been  some  few  moments  settled  in  their 
places,  and  the  procession  of  marching  clubs,  each  boom- 
ing a  different  candidate,  was  weaving  its  serpentine  way 
among  the  delegates,  accompanied  by  more  or  less  cheer- 
ing, according  to  the  degree  of  popularity  of  the  cham- 
pion exploited.  Miss  Rand  was  enthusiastically  clapping 
the  club  which  bore  on  its  flag  the  name  of  the  candidate 
she  favored,  when  she  perceived  for  the  first  time  the 
person  whom  she  had  come  to  the  convention  to  see, 
and  that  was  James  Vernor  Ellis,  of  New  York,  dele- 
gate from  that  State  and  known  to  newspaperdom  as  a 
rising  young  politician.  Ellis  was  only  thirty-one, 
but  he  had  appeared  in  the  newspapers  a  number  of 
times  during  the  ten  years  since  his  graduation  from 
college,  "  along  with  the  murderers,  divorcees,  and  other 
famous  people,"  as  he  himself  was  wont  to  put  it.  His 
career  in  print  had  been  started  with  a  column  in  a 
New  York  society  paper  chronicling  the  incidents  of  a 
charity  bazaar,  and  the  reply  which  young  Mr.  Ellis, 
then  just  out  of  college,  had  made  to  a  fast  and  fash- 
ionable young  matron  who  had  offered  to  dance  with 
him  in  the  dancing  pavilion,  in  exchange  for  fifty 
dollars.  "  Excuse  me,  Mrs.  So-and-So,"  the  young  man 
was  reported  as  saying,  "  but  is  n't  that  a  little  more 
than  you  usually  ask  a  man  for  putting  his  arm  around 
your  waist?  " 

The  part  he  played  in  an  incident  in  connection  with 
the  assassination  of  President  McKinley  at  Buffalo  had 
figured  next  in  the  papers.  On  the  evening  in  question, 
when  the  martyred  president  was  lying  near  to  death, 

[13] 


The  Politician 

a  group  of  anxious  citizens  of  Buffalo  had  gathered 
around  a  bulletin  board  where  news  of  the  sinking  man's 
condition  was  posted.  When  it  was  learned  that 
McKinley  had  only  a  few  hours  to  live,  some  one  in  the 
crowd,  for  the  pleasure  of  hearing  himself  talk  and 
the  more  doubtful  one  of  shocking  the  others,  voiced  the 
sentiment  that  the  country  was  "  well  rid  of  him."  The 
scoffer  met  swift  punishment  for  his  unfeeling  and 
unpatriotic  remark  at  the  hands  of  Mr.  Ellis,  who  hap- 
pened to  be  among  the  bystanders,  and  who  promptly 
knocked  him  down  —  a  deed  which  won  no  little  ap- 
plause for  Mr.  Ellis  and  much  exploitation  by  the 
press. 

Lately  his  name  had  a  habit  of  cropping  up  in  ac- 
counts of  things  political:  he  had  been  mentioned  as 
refusing  the  honor  of  a  judgeship  for  reasons  not 
stated,  and  again  in  connection  with  his  reelection  as 
leader  of  his  District.  And  if  that  was  not  distinction 
enough,  he  had  also  the  honor  to  be  brother  to  Mrs. 
Lawrence  Presbey.  As  for  Harriet  Rand's  knowledge 
of  him,  she  had  met  him  the  summer  of  the  last  con- 
vention, which  was  the  year  of  her  coming  out. 

"  There 's  my  brother ! "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Presbey, 
catching  sight  of  the  young  man  at  almost  the  same 
moment  with  Harriet.  "  See,  Lawrence,  there  's  Ver- 
ney!" 

"  Where?  "  said  Presbey,  "  I  don't  see." 

"  Over  in  section  16,  the  New  York  section,  with  a 
brown  suit  and  red  and  black  hat-band,"  replied  his 
wife,  levelling  glasses  in  the  direction  specified;  and 

[14] 


After  Four  Years 

then  to  Miss  Rand,  "  You  remember  my  brother,  don't 
you,  Harriet?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Harriet  quietly,  but  her  thoughts  flew 
with  a  rush  back  to  that  evening  in  Mrs.  Presbey's 
apartment  on  the  Lake  Shore  Drive,  where  she  had  met 
him.  She  had  been  dining  with  the  young  married 
couple  when  Ellis  burst  in  upon  them  to  bid  his  sister 
good-bye  before  leaving  for  New  York  with  the  other 
delegates.  She  remembered  perfectly  the  rare  intelli- 
gence and  sparkle  of  his  blue  eyes,  and  his  charmingly 
enunciative  voice,  as  he  laughingly  denied  his  sister's  ac- 
cusation that  they  had  seen  nothing  of  him,  and  she 
remembered  especially  the  few  moments  when  the  Pres- 
beys,  busy  arguing  with  each  other  about  the  best  way 
to  get  to  the  La  Salle  Street  Station,  left  them  alone  in 
conversation.  It  had  been  for  a  few  moments  only,  but 
she  remembered  well  one  thing  that  he  said.  When  she 
asked  him  if  he  ever  expected  to  run  for  office  himself, 
he  replied,  half  laughing,  half  serious,  "  Oh,  no !  I  'm 
only  a  politician ;  I  help  other  people  run  for  office." 
And  as  "  the  politician  "  her  thoughts  had  named  him 
ever  since,  making  a  place  for  him  among  themselves 
through  four  years  of  life  filled  to  an  unusual  extent 
with  travel,  cultivation,  and  social  success. 

"  If  I  could  only  make  him  see  me ! "  said  Mrs. 
Presbey ;  and  in  the  hope  of  attracting  her  brother's 
attention  she  stood  up  and  waved  frantically,  in  spite 
of  the  protests  of  her  more  reserved  husband,  whose 
natural  enemy  was  notoriety.  Her  efforts  were  quite 
unsuccessful,  for  the  young  man  in  the  brown  suit,  who 

[15] 


The  Politician 

was  just  entering  section  16,  was  too  absorbed  in  ex- 
changing greetings  with  various  men  about  him  to 
notice  anything  so  unimportant  as  the  flutter  of  a 
woman's  programme  half  way  between  the  New  York 
section  and  the  platform  for  the  speakers. 

"  What 's  all  the  excitement  about  ?  "  asked  George 
Benton,  waking  up  to  the  fact  that  something  unusual 
was  going  on,  and  that  it  —  whatever  it  was  —  had 
brought  an  unwonted  color  to  the  cheek  of  the  girl 
beside  him  and  a  wonderful  brilliance  to  her  eyes ;  at 
the  same  time  he  was  quite  blissfully  unaware  that  there 
was  such  a  person  as  James  Vernor  Ellis  in  existence, 
much  less  that  he  was  known  to  Miss  Harriet  Rand. 

"  It 's  Mrs.  Presbey's  brother,"  replied  Harriet, 
gently  and  forbearingly,  for  she  had  an  older  sister's 
affection  for  Benton,  "  Mr.  Ellis,  you  know.  He  's  a 
delegate  from  New  York." 

"Ellis?"  repeated  Benton,  adjusting  his  glasses  and 
looking  where  Harriet  was  looking.  "  He  's  going  to 
speak,  some  one  told  me,  in  support  of  the  minority 
report  of  the  Committee  on  Rules,  representing  New 
York  State." 

"  Not  really ! "  cried  Harriet,  and  in  the  interest  of 
the  moment  she  gave  his  arm  a  little  shake.  George 
Benton's  dark,  amiable  face  broke  into  a  smile. 

"  Yes,  really  !  "  he  said ;  "  but  what 's  so  extraordinary 
about  that  ?  "  He  looked  admiringly  down  at  her ;  but 
Harriet  had  turned  her  back  and  was  excitedly  telling 
Ellis's  sister,  who  was  not  half  so  excited  as  she,  that 
Ellis  was  going  to  make  a  speech. 

[16] 


After  Four  Years 

The  momentary  animation  with  which  a  word  from 
Miss  Rand  invariably  lit  up  the  rather  expressionless 
features  of  the  young  man's  face  vanished  almost  im- 
mediately, and  he  leaned  down  and  picked  up  Mrs.  Pres- 
bey's  fan,  which  had  fallen  to  the  floor. 

"  Thank  you,  George,"  returned  that  lady,  and  then 
addressed  her  husband  across  him. 

"  Lawrence,"  she  said,  in  subdued  but  intense  tones ; 
"  I  do  wish  you  could  hear  what  this  woman  in  front 
of  me  has  been  saying !  " 

"  Which  woman  ?  "  asked  her  husband  cheerily ;  and 
then  as  he  caught  the  indignant  glances  his  wife  directed 
at  a  placid-looking  be-spectacled  woman  in  the  seat 
ahead  of  her,  his  tone  grew  graver. 

"  What 's  the  trouble?  "  he  asked. 

"  Why,  if  you  '11  believe  me,"  returned  his  wife,  "  she 
keeps  turning  around  and  talking  to  me  the  whole  time, 
telling  me  just  who  every  one  is  and  what 's  happening! 
And  I  never  saw  her  before  in  my  life !  " 

"  Perhaps  she  thinks  you  want  her  to,"  soothed  Pres- 
bey ;  "  she  probably  means  well !  " 

"  Indeed  she  does  n't,"  retorted  Cornelia  Presbey ; 
"  she  's  been  to  fourteen  conventions,  or  so  she  says  " — 
this  with  a  scathing  glance  at  the  lady  in  front  — "  and 
she  just  wants  to  show  off.  I  never — " 

"  My  dear,"  interrupted  the  lady  in  front,  turning 
half  around  in  her  seat  and  smiling  placidly  at  Mrs. 
Presbey,  "  if  you  look  now  I  think  you  can  see  Alice 
Roosevelt.  Close  down  by  the  chairman's  table,  with 
a  blue  and  white  check  — * 


The  Politician 

But  Mrs.  Presbey  had  turned  resolutely  toward  Mrs. 
Cumloch  on  her  other  side. 

"  Just  as  if  I  only  came  to  the  convention  to  see  Alice 
Roosevelt !  "  she  said  indignantly  to  the  older  lady. 

"  Well,  I  daresay  half  the  people  came  for  that  as 
much  as  for  any  other  reason,"  remarked  Mrs.  Cumloch, 
tolerantly ;  "  curiosity 's  the  ruling  passion  with  us 
Americans !  " 

"And  the  other  half  came  to  shout  'Hats  off!'  I 
should  say,"  remarked  Mr.  Presbey,  looking  from  the 
men  in  the  seats  behind  them  who  were  making  vocifer- 
ous requests  that  all  head-gear  be  removed,  to  his  wife's 
very  becoming  but  undeniably  large  hat. 

"  I  'd  take  it  off,  dear,"  he  said. 

"  A  shame,  Cornelia,"  commiserated  George  Benton, 
who  knew  the  Presbeys  very  well,  as  his  companion 
obeyed ;  then,  looking  up,  "  Hullo ! "  he  said,  "  whom 
have  we  here  ?  Who  's  taking  the  platform  now  ?  " 

"  It 's  Verney ! "  said  Mrs.  Presbey,  restoring  her 
wonderful  light  hair  to  its  original  smooth  outline  with 
one  upward  sweep  of  her  hand,  as  a  young  man  in  a 
brown  suit  appeared  on  the  speaker's  platform.  "  Oh, 
dear !  I  don't  see  what  he  wants  to  do  this  sort  of  thing 
for.  The  family  don't  care  about  it  at  all,  his  being 
in  politics.  It 's  too  conspicuous  and  degrading." 

"  And  expensive,  I  should  say,"  said  Benton. 

"  Oh,  very  !  "  she  replied. 

Harriet  heard,  and  stared.  "  Degrading,  Cornelia?  " 
she  repeated. 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  young  matron.  "  Fancy  one  of 
[18] 


After  Four  Years 

the  Ellis  family  associating  with  all  the  horrid  men  that 
are  mixed  up  in  politics  —  saloon-keepers  and  unedu- 
cated foreigners  and  I  don't  know  what  all !  " 

"  Hush ! "  returned  the  girl  peremptorily  and  as  if 
she  thought  this  remark  undeserving  of  attention, 
"  your  brother  is  going  to  speak." 

The  chairman,  who  had  introduced  Mr.  Ellis,  had 
finished  his  few  remarks  and  the  young  man  stepped 
forward,  and  in  a  clear,  well-sustained  voice  began  his 
speech. 

"  We  can't  hear !  Oh,  I  'm  afraid  we  can't  hear !  " 
said  Harriet  disappointedly  ;  "  we  're  too  far  back !  " 

Ellis's  speech  on  representation  in  the  convention  was 
brief  and,  to  judge  by  the  interested  faces  of  the  dele- 
gates, very  much  to  the  point,  although,  as  Harriet  had 
feared,  Mrs.  Cumloch's  party  were  too  far  back  to  hear 
it  all.  Sentences  and  phrases,  however,  floated  back 
to  them  at  intervals. 

"  In  the  District  in  which  I  live,"  they  heard  him  say, 
'*  over  twenty-two  hundred  Republican  votes  were  cast 
at  the  last  election.  .  .  .  That  District  is  entitled 
to  two  delegates  in  this  convention.  .  .  .  In  a  cer- 
tain District  in  Mississippi  one  hundred  and  seventy- 
eight  Republican  votes  were  cast  in  the  last  election. 
.  .  .  That  District  is  entitled  to  two  votes  in  this 
convention.  Can  any  one  describe  that  as  equal  repre- 
sentation ?  "  And  again,  "  For  weeks  we  have  heard  lit- 
tle except  the  contests  between  the  delegates  from  these 
Southern  Democratic  Districts.  They  have  made  so 
much  noise  that  it  almost  seemed  that  the  Republican. 

[19] 


The  Politician 

party  and  the  whole  Government  of  this  country  existed 
for  the  sole  purpose  of  settling  their  dispute.  Now 
the  contests  have  been  decided,  and  we  shall  hear  no 
more  of  the  Republican  party  in  those  Districts  until 
the  time  comes  for  another  national  convention."  And 
his  clear,  well-balanced  setting  forth  of  the  substance 
of  his  subject,  accurate  in  its  details  and  convincingly 
expressed,  brought  the  young  speaker  generous  applause. 
Even  George  Benton,  who  was  not  interested  in  politics 
and  was  there  because  Harriet  was  there,  appreciated 
that  the  speaker  had  distinctly  "  made  good." 

"  That 's  a  wonder  of  a  speech  for  so  young  a  man," 
he  said  to  Presbey,  as  Ellis  with  a  forcible  parting  state- 
ment, that  drew  him  many  a  hand,  made  his  bow  and, 
accompanied  by  two  gray-bearded  statesmen,  one  on 
each  side,  stepped  down  from  the  platform  and  worked 
his  way  back  to  section  16. 

Harriet,  watching  his  progress  through  the  crowd, 
knew  without  seeing  how  his  eyes  sparkled  and  how 
often  he  bit  his  lower  lip  with  his  teeth  —  a  trick  he  had 
in  conversation  when  he  had  made  his  point  and  awaited 
comment  upon  it.  What  followed,  the  remaining  pro- 
gramme of  the  convention,  was  to  her  an  anti-climax, 
even  the  Roosevelt  demonstration ;  though  the  epidemic 
of  cheering  was  catching,  and  she  found  herself  repeat- 
ing "  Four,  four,  four  years  more,"  with  the  best  of 
them. 

"  If  only  he  could  hear  it,  if  only  the  President  were 
here ! "  she  said  to  George  Benton,  raising  her  voice 
almost  to  a  shout,  the  din  about  them  was  so  great. 

[20] 


After  Four  Years 

"  He  can,"  replied  Benton  ;  "  he  is." 

"  How  do  you  mean  ?  "  asked  Miss  Rand,  puzzled. 

"  Long  distance  telephone,"  replied  the  man.  "  He  's 
had  his  ear  fast  to  it  from  the  beginning ! "  And  he 
pointed  out  to  her  the  three  black  discs  about  five  feet 
in  front  of  the  platform,  where  the  speakers  stood,  which 
were  the  receivers  of  the  instruments. 

Harriet  thrilled.  "  How  proud  —  how  proud  he 
must  be !  "  she  said.  And  because  of  that  listening  ear 
she  looked  upon  the  scene  of  uproar  with  new  interest; 
at  the  shrieking  people  clinging  to  rafters  and  standing 
on  chairs,  waving  hats  and  programmes  in  the  maddest 
kind  of  excitement;  at  the  delegates  in  the  middle,  most 
of  them  instructed,  and  some  with  their  votes  deter- 
mined long  before  their  arrival  in  Chicago,  sitting  silent 
and  with  folded  arms ;  and  at  one  old  man  in  particular, 
who  had  taken  off  his  coat  and  was  waving  it  about  his 
head  like  a  flag;  while  in  her  ears  sounded  the  monoto- 
nous chant  of  two  men  behind  her  who  had  not  ceased 
to  cry  "  Down  in  front ! "  since  the  beginning  of  the 
demonstration. 

"  Let 's  go  home,"  said  Mrs.  Presbey,  when  the  cheer- 
ing had  lasted  nearly  half  an  hour  and  showed  no  signs 
of  diminishing.  "  I  'm  tired  and  sick  of  all  this  noise, 
and  the  heat  is  dreadful !  " 

"  Where 's  your  enthusiasm,  Cornelia,  my  dear? " 
asked  Mrs.  Cumloch,  who  looked  as  cool  and  calm  as  if 
it  were  not  90  degrees  in  the  shade.  "  Have  n't  you 
more  patriotism  than  that  ?  " 

"  Not  in  hot  weather,  Mrs.  Cumloch,"  returned  Mrs* 


The  Politician 

Presbey ;  and  then  to  her  husband,  "  Lawrence,  you  run 
around  to  section  16  and  tell  the  Politician  —  tell 
Verney  —  that  we  're  going,  and  that  he  's  to  come  out 
and  meet  us  at  the  door ;  I  want  to  see  him."  Mr.  Pres- 
bey  vanished  obediently,  and  the  others,  acquiescing  in 
her  desire  to  leave,  arose. 

"  I  think,"  said  the  woman  in  front  of  them,  turning 
around  as  they  did  so,  "  that  if  you  look  now  you  can 
see  Alice — "  But  she  had  not  time  to  finish  her  sen- 
tence, for  her  victim  had  hurried  out  into  the  aisle. 

"  Did  you  ever  hear  anything  like  that  ?  "  enquired 
Mrs.  Presbey  breathlessly,  as  the  rest  joined  her. 
"  Why,  she  regularly  persecuted  me !  " 

"  Yes."  agreed  Harriet,  inattentively ;  "  but  what  did 
you  call  your  brother  then,  when  you  sent  Mr.  Presbey 
for  him,  Cornelia  ?  " 

"  *  The  Politician.'     Why?  "  returned  Mrs.  Presbey. 

"  No  reason,"  replied  the  girl,  who  could  not  have 
confessed  to  his  sister  that  she  had  thought  of  Ellis  by 
that  name  ever  since  she  had  first  seen  him. 

"  We  've  always  called  him  that,  Lawrence  and  I," 
went  on  the  young  married  woman,  "  ever  since  he  took 
up  politics.  More  for  fun  than  anything  else.  It 
seems  so  absurd,  you  know,  that  Verney  should  really 
be  a  politician !  He  's  so  good-looking  and  altogether 
aristocratic ! " 

"  It  is  n't  generally  considered  a  compliment  to  be 
called  one,  I  suppose,"  said  Mrs.  Cumloch. 

"  Is  n't  it?  "  said  her  niece.     "  Well,  it  ought  to  be." 

"  Far  from  being  a  compliment,"  remarked  Benton, 
[22  ] 


After  Four  Years 

at  Miss  Rand's  side  as  usual ;  "  it 's  often  the  reverse. 
From  its  association  with  the  comic  paper  idea  of  a 
politician,  I  imagine ;  and  that  would  be  the  most  widely 
accepted  one,  you  see.  To  my  mind  the  title  only  calls 
up  a  picture  of  a  fat  man  with  a  fat  cigar  in  his  mouth 
and  fat  diamonds  on  his  hands." 

"  There  they  are ! "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Presbey,  and  the 
next  second  her  husband,  short,  round-faced  and  per- 
spiring, and  her  brother,  tall  and  distinguished,  had 
joined  them. 

"  Here  's  the  Politician !  "  cried  Lawrence  Presbey 
jovially.  And  during  the  course  of  the  next  moment  or 
two,  when  Mrs.  Presbey  had  ceased  to  overwhelm  her 
brother1  with  questions  and  chatter,  he  and  Harriet 
clasped  hands  again  —  after  four  years. 


[23] 


CHAPTER  II 

PATRIOTISM  AND   PEANUTS 

IT  had  been  arranged  before  they  parted  that  Mr. 
Ellis  was  to  dine  that  evening  at  Mrs.  Cumloch's 
house  in  Lake  Forest.  The  young  man  had  ac- 
cepted the  older  lady's  invitation  with  every  sign  of 
pleasure,  although  the  smile  which  went  with  his  few 
words  of  thanks  had  been  for  her  niece;  and  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Presbey,  who  were  coming  too,  had  agreed  to  bring 
him  out  with  them  as  soon  as  the  convention  was  over. 
George  Benton,  as  a  matter  of  course,  for  he  was  a 
great  favorite  with  Mrs.  Cumloch,  was  to  accompany 
her  and  Harriet  back  to  Lake  Forest  in  their  automo- 
bile. 

The  convention  was  unexpectedly  late  in  closing  that 
afternoon,  and  the  Presbeys  arriving  a  little  after 
seven,  accompanied  by  Ellis,  found  the  rest  of  the  dinner 
party  assembled  on  the  south  terrace  of  the  white 
marble  Venetian  palace  which  Mrs.  Horace  Cum- 
loch chose  to  call  her  "  summer  home,"  and  were  cor- 
dially greeted  by  their  hostess.  The  young  man  from 
New  York  —  the  others  happened  to  be  all  Chicagoans 
—  bowed  to  nearly  a  dozen  people  as  he  was  introduced. 
He  wore  the  same  brown  suit  that  Harriet  had  seen  him 
in  that  afternoon,  as  the  lateness  of  the  convention  had 

[24] 


Patriotism  and  Peanuts 

not  given  him  time  to  change.  Every  other  man  in  the 
party  was  in  evening  dress,  but  he  did  not  explain  the 
matter,  feeling  that  apology  for  something  he  could  not 
help  was  unnecessary.  Superfluous  explanation  was 
never  his  habit  in  any  event. 

"  You  know  we  have  a  politician  among  us  to-night," 
remarked  Mrs.  Cumloch,  as  they  sat  down  to  the  table, 
"  a  real,  live  politician,"  and  she  smiled  kindly  at  Ellis. 
Whereupon  the  conversation  centred  at  once,  firmly  and 
politely,  in  spite  of  the  young  delegate's  modest  efforts 
to  stave  it  off,  upon  the  convention,  the  scene  of  enthusi- 
asm that  afternoon,  and  the  results  of  the  day's  session, 
not  to  mention  the  small  part  which  the  stranger  among 
them,  the  guest  from  out  of  town,  had  played.  Started 
in  a  spirit  of  politeness  merely,  it  seemed  to  grow  and 
flourish  until  it  had  shed  its  shell  of  perfunctory  inter- 
est and  become  an  animated,  living  thing  under  the 
magnetic  touch,  the  flashing  eye,  and  the  earnest  accents 
of  the  "  Politician." 

"  It 's  like  watching  a  finely  bred  race-horse  quiver- 
ing for  the  start  to  watch  that  fellow  talk  on  his  favorite 
subject,"  remarked  a  middle-aged  lawyer,  Lee  Stanton, 
who  was  one  of  those  present,  to  the  man  who  sat  nearest 
him.  "  Never  saw  such  whole-souled  enthusiasm,  in  my 
life ! " 

"  And  about  politics,  too,"  commented  his  wife  from 
across  the  way,  with  surprise  that  was  almost  scornful  — 
"such  a  dry,  uninteresting  subject!" 

That  was  it  exactly.  Mrs.  Stanton  had  uncon- 
sciously voiced  the  opinion  of  every  one  there  in  her 

[25] 


The  Politician 

remark.  Either  through  natural  indifference  or  indo- 
lence or  because  of  the  general  tendency  of  people  not 
directly  connected  with  public  affairs  to  condemn  po- 
litical conditions  as  too  bad  to  improve,  and  on  that 
account  not  worth  talking  about,  the  subject  had  here- 
tofore been  dry  and  uninteresting  to  Mrs.  Cumloch's 
guests.  And  that  was  what  made  Verney's  enthusiasm 
so  amazing  to  them.  It  was  so  inspiring,  so  sincere,  so 
convincing,  that  from  a  feeling  almost  of  self-obligation 
they  responded  in  kind,  felt  their  eyes  kindle  when  his 
did,  were  enthusiastic  too. 

Ellis  was  a  new  type  to  these  wealthy,  contented  peo- 
ple, whose  lines  lay  in  pleasant  places  far  removed  from 
the  responsibilities  of  public  life  and  the  harassing 
questions  pertaining  to  the  government  of  the  country. 
He  was  not,  however,  in  any  sense  an  extraordinary 
young  man,  only  a  thoroughly  practical  dyed-in-the- 
wool  Republican-organization  politician,  whose  god  was 
the  Republican  party  and  whose  religion  was  "  regu- 
larity." But  he  was  at  the  same  time  a  man  of  prin- 
ciple and  integrity,  which  qualities  identified  him  with 
the  honest  minority  among  politicians  instead  of  the 
corrupt  majority.  He  even  went  so  far  as  to  cherish 
ambitions  and  schemes  for  obtaining  civil  service  reform, 
although  his  field  of  activity  was  not  extensive  and  he 
had  as  yet  only  been  connected  with  State  and  city 
politics.  These  he  expected  to  realize  not  as  the  New 
School  reformers  wished  to  do,  by  means  of  abolishing 
political  organization,  but  by  reforming  it. 

It  was  this  fact,  apart  from  his  personal  magnetism, 
[261 


Patriotism  and  Peanuts 

which  explained  the  flattering  attention  with  which  his 
auditors  regarded  him  and  the  impression  which  he 
seemed  to  have  made  upon  them.  The  anomaly  of  a 
machine  politician  with  ideals,  who  worked  for  reform 
and  patriotism,  was  too  novel  in  their  experience  not  to 
be  entertaining.  Then,  too,  that  very  class-feeling 
which  made  Mrs.  Presbey  term  politics  degrading  and 
which  accounted  for  the  tone  of  scorn  with  which  Mrs. 
Stanton  had  described  the  subject  as  "  dry  and  unin- 
teresting," compelled  them  to  respect  this  man  who  was 
one  of  them,  and  who  yet  was  not  too  proud  to  take  off 
his  gloves  and  do  the  work  they  all  knew  must  be  done, 
no  matter  how  they  despised  it.  No  wonder  they  drew 
closer  round  the  table  and  hung  on  his  words,  with  much 
the  same  wondering  and  curious  interest  as  dancers  in  a 
ballroom  during  some  great  war  might  display  upon 
the  entrance  of  a  soldier  with  news  from  the  front. 

Harriet  looked  about  her  with  a  peculiar  sense  of 
pride  that  she  somehow  felt  she  had  a  right  to,  as  she 
noted  their  absorbed  faces  and  realized  that  Verney  was 
the  centre  of  attention.  How  interested  they  all  seemed, 
these  ten  or  eleven  people  that  she  had  known  all  her 
life  —  the  Stantons,  friends  of  her  aunt's ;  young  Fran- 
cis Morton,  who  had  been  her  devoted  friend  and  com- 
rade since  the  earliest  of  their  common  twenty-four  years ; 
Pauline  Wright,  the  one  girl  whose  friendship  among 
girls  meant  the  most;  George  Benton,  the  Presbeys,  her 
aunt's  brother,  Mr.  Case,  and  the  two  other  men  who 
made  the  party  complete. 

"  What  we  need  most,"  he  was  saying  to  Mr.  Case, 
[27] 


The  Politician 

in  reply  to  some  question  of  the  older  man's,  quite 
unconscious  that  his  audience  was  not  that  gentleman 
alone,  but  the  whole  table,  "  what  we  need  most,  what 
the  country  needs,  is  more  men  of  character  and  ability 
in  politics.  I  don't  mean  to  fill  the  important  admin- 
istrative positions  at  Washington ;  I  mean  to  go  down 
into  the  thick  of  things,  the  beginning  of  things,  to  give 
their  time  and  ability  to  political  work  in  city  and  State. 
It  is  n't  enough,  you  know,  to  polish  the  outside  of  the 
platter;  to  be  clean,  the  inside  must  be  polished  too." 
He  paused  and  bit  his  lip  in  the  manner  Harriet  remem- 
bered so  well,  and  then  smiled  boyishly,  as  his  glance 
compassed  the  circle  of  interested  faces.  "  And  I  don't 
see  why  they  don't  enter  by  the  thousand,"  he  went  on. 
"  It  does  seem  strange,  does  n't  it,  that  the  men  who 
would  lay  down  everything  to  answer  a  call  for  volunteers 
if  there  was  a  war,  should  refuse  to  serve  their  country  in 
this  other  equally  important  way  —  politically.  That 's 
the  way  to  retrench  the  power  of  the  bosses  —  supplant 
them  with  good  men.  When  there  are  more  good  men 
than  bad  in  a  political  machine,  it  won't  be  corrupt  any 
longer." 

"  It 's  undoubtedly  the  right  theory,"  replied  Mr. 
Case,  thoughtfully,  "  that  the  country  should  have  more 
good  men  in  politics,  but  the  trouble  is  that  it 's  difficult 
to  put  in  practice.  The  good  men,  you  know,  as  a 
rule  have  n't  time  to  give  to  public  life.  Their  private 
interests  prevent.  That 's  natural  enough ;  a  man  must 
live  and  earn  his  daily  bread." 

"  Yes,  but  at  least  he  does  n't  have  to  be  indifferent," 
[28] 


Patriotism  and  Peanuts 

expostulated  Verney.  "  Every  one  can't  run  for  office, 
of  course,  but  those  that  can't  can  be  interested  in 
what 's  going  on.  I  read  somewhere  in  the  preface  to 
some  good  stories  about  politics,  that  if  all  the  good 
men  understand  when  wrong  things  are  being  done, 
that 's  all  that 's  necessary.  The  wrong  things  stop 
being  done.  To  be  interested  is  the  least  that  any  man 
who  lays  claim  to  any  patriotism  can  do." 

Mr.  Case,  elderly  broker  and  man  of  the  world,  smiled 
as  one  smiles  at  youthful  enthusiasm,  indulgently. 
"  You  speak  warmly,"  he  said ;  "  yet  to  my  mind  there  's 
every  excuse  for  a  man's  minding  his  own  affairs  first, 
even  should  the  country  go  to  ruin  on  that  account. 
Particularly  a  man  with  a  family.  He  owes  them  his 
first  duty.  Certainly  he  should  try,  if  he  is  able,  to 
give  political  affairs  attention  at  the  same  time;  but  if 
he  fails,  I,  for  one,  should  hesitate  to  criticise.  Indif- 
ference I  should  call  regrettable,  but  I  can't  say  that 
I  'd  call  it  a  crime." 

"  I  do,"  asserted  Verney,  promptly ;  "  a  crime  against 
the  State,  against  the  nation,  Mr.  Case.  Interest  in 
public  affairs  need  not  interfere  with  a  man's  duty  to 
his  family,  you  know,  although  participation  in  them 
might.  And  where  a  man  who  has  no  duty  of  the  kind 
is  concerned,  and  indifference  to  public  affairs  actually 
prevents  his  participation  in  them,  I  don't  see  how  it 
can  be  called  anything  less  than  criminal. 

"  The  indifference  of  men  in  those  circumstances,  if 
it  continue  to  exist,  will  eventually  prove  the  destruction 
of  all  hope  of  obtaining  good  government  for  this  coun- 

[29] 


The  Politician 

i 

try.  But  I  don't  think  it  will  continue.  I  think  we 
are  growing  out  of  it  already."  He  lifted  his  head  as 
a  swimmer  who  breasts  great  waves  lifts  his  for  a  sight 
of  land  and  sees  it  just  ahead.  "  Every  year,  every 
day,  men  of  education  and  character  join  the  ranks  of 
men  in  public  life.  They  are  the  army  of  the  Republic 
in  times  of  peace!  And  these  recruits,  these  soldiers, 
are  for  the  most  part  young  men ! "  He  paused,  and 
his  voice  took  a  quiet,  hushed  tone.  "  Why,  I  know 
men  in  New  York,"  he  said,  "  forty  and  fifty  and  sixty 
of  them,  who  have  taken  up  active  political  work  during 
the  last  month  or  so,  and  I  don't  think  one  of  them  is 
over  thirty-five." 

"That's  encouraging,  isn't  it?"  volunteered  Mrs. 
Stanton,  made  enthusiast  for  the  moment,  self-centred 
and  narrow-minded  as  she  was,  by  virtue  of  the  Politi- 
cian's enthusiasm,  "  to  have  the  young  men  come  to  the 
rescue." 

"  The  most  encouraging  thing  in  the  world ! "  re- 
turned Ellis,  earnestly ;  "  because  if  the  young  men  are 
forswearing  the  vice  of  indifference,  if  when  they  are 
just  starting  out  in  life  and  have  their  way  still  to  make, 
they  think  politics  important  enough  to  give  it  their 
attention,  there  is  hope  for  the  future  of  American 
government." 

A  pause  followed  this  remark, —  no  one  among  his 
audience  seeming  able  to  contribute  anything  further 
to  the  subject,  in  lieu  of  which  they  unanimously  turned 
their  attention  to  the  goods  which  the  gods,  in  the  guise 
of  Mrs.  Cumloch,  had  provided,  and  which  a  butler  and 

[30] 


Patriotism  and  Peanuts 

two  footmen  following  one  another  in  noiseless  proces- 
sion about  the  table,  set  before  them  in  such  variety. 

"  I  've  often  thought,"  presently  remarked  Francis 
Morton,  who  had  but  lately  graduated  from  an  Eastern 
college,  "  that  I  'd  like  to  go  into  politics  myself ;  only 
the  trouble  is  that  a  fellow  can't  get  a  start  anywhere  — 
at  all  high  up,  you  know,  I  mean.  And,  of  course," 
added  the  young  fellow,  speaking  with  the  assurance 
which  his  father's  millions  and  the  consciousness  that  he 
belonged  to  one  of  the  oldest  families  in  that  part  of  the 
country  lent  him,  "  ward  politics  is  too  dirty  a  business 
for  a  gentleman  to  mix  with." 

Ellis  regarded  him  earnestly  for  a  moment,  his  eager 
lips  begging  words  of  rebuke  from  his  teeming  brain, 
but  he  would  not  indulge  them.  He  knew  the  boy  was 
wrong,  that  he  did  n't  look  at  the  question  of  entering 
public  life  in  the  right  way,  but  he  could  n't  very  well 
tell  him  so.  He  recognized  in  the  self-satisfied  youth  a 
type  with  which  he  was  very  familiar,  the  young  man  who 
imagines  he  wants  to  go  into  politics  in  order  to  do 
something  for  his  country,  but  whose  real  object  is 
to  have  his  country  &>  something  for  him  —  to  establish 
him  in  a  posiHoxi  of  importance  and  consequence. 

Verney  b^ped  some  one  would  explain  to  Morton  be- 
fore li/n<£  this  misapprehension  of  his,  but  he  did  not 
feel  quite  warranted  in  doing  so  himself.  So  he  only 
sighed  and  said  gently :  "  I  think  you  would  regret  it 
if  you  were  able  to  start  high  up,  as  you  propose.  It 's 
all  very  well  to  be  an  ambassador  or  a  diplomat,"  he 
sensed  readily  from  his  knowledge  of  the  type,  that  that 

[31] 


The  Politician 

was  the  kind  of  position  the  young  man  had  in  mind 
when  he  spoke ;  "  but  a  man  misses  a  lot  in  taking  up 
politics  without  starting  at  the  beginning  of  the  game." 

After  dinner  was  over,  as  Mrs.  Cumloch  and  the  others 
sipped  their  coffee  out  on  the  wide  stone  terrace  flower- 
ing with  strange  plants  and  sweet  with  alien  perfumes 
that  hemmed  in  the  spreading  low-roofed  house,  interest 
in  politics  as  a  subject  for  conversation  did  not  flag, 
although  this  thoroughly  representative  group  of  peo- 
ple, belonging  to  what  is  known  as  the  "  better  class," 
had  not  taken  before  the  advent  of  the  young  New 
Yorker  more  interest  in  that  subject  than  was  necessary 
to  appear  intelligent. 

"  He  's  quite  hopelessly  one-ideaed,  you  know,"  said 
Mrs.  Cumloch  (Verney  was  at  the  other  end  of  the 
terrace  with  the  younger  people,  out  of  ear-shot),  "  but 
in  this  repressed,  artificial  day  and  generation  such  en- 
thusiasm about  anything  is  refreshing.  A  man  who 
is  n't  afraid  to  admit  that  he  's  bound  up  in  his  work 
to  the  exclusion  of  all  else  commands  my  admiration." 

"  And  I  like  his  sort  of  one-ideaness,"  added  Mrs. 
Stanton.  "  I  can't  endure  hobbies  as  a  rule,  but  one 
that  aims  to  do  something  for  somebody  else  —  make 
something  better  —  is  too  unusual  not  to  be  interesting. 
He  could  n't  bore  me,  let  him  trot  it  never  so  far  and 
fast ! " 

"  That  is  n't  a  bad  theory  of  his,"  remarked  Mr. 
Case,  stirring  his  coffee  musingly,  "  that  it 's  the  men 
who  belong  to  these  all-powerful  political  machines 
there  's  such  an  outcry  against  these  days  who  are  best 

[32] 


Patriotism  and  Peanuts 

able  to  wage  war  against  the  unscrupulous  bosses  that 
have  corrupted  them." 

"  Yes,  and  of  course  it 's  true,"  said  Lee  Stanton, 
"  that  the  more  men  of  his  stamp  there  are  in  the  politi- 
cal field  —  men  who  are  n't  corrupt  and  who  are  willing 
to  wage  war  —  the  more  chance  there  is  that  the  fight 
will  be  successful." 

But  their  efforts  to  engage  Mr.  James  Vernor  Ellis, 
or  "  Verney,"  as  he  was  more  familiarly  called,  in  the 
same  sort  of  discussion  they  had  had  at  dinner,  proved 
vain.  Each  one  in  turn  made  the  attempt  when  the 
party  had  drawn  closer  together  again,  but  the  young 
man's  ready  flow  of  words  in  regard  to  things  political 
seemed  to  have  deserted  him  quite.  But  not  so  his 
spirits,  for  he  conversed  lightly  and  entertainingly  on, 
various  other  subjects,  amusing  them  all  with  anecdote 
and  story,  and  trying  to  bring  every  one  into  the  con- 
versation. 

"  He  's  afraid  he  's  bored  us,  the  foolish  boy,"  thought 
Harriet,  divining  the  motive  behind  this  course  as  read- 
ily as  if  Ellis  himself  had  told  her,  and  went  over  to  the 
swinging  bench  where  he  sat.  Yet  the  two  had  hardly 
addressed  each  other  directly  the  evening  through.  Not 
that  Miss  Rand  was  gifted  with  any  special  powers  of 
divination ;  but  she  had  happened  to  know  a  great  many 
men  very  well,  and  her  excellent  mind  and  quick  intelli- 
gence enabled  her  to  apply  this  general  knowledge  very 
readily  to  specific  cases.  This  she  did  the  more  accu- 
rately because  her  judgment  of  mankind  had  never  been 
blinded,  or  its  clarity  impaired  by  the  existence  of  any 
3  [33] 


The  Politician 

•kind  of  love  affair.  Men  in  plenty  had  loved  her  —  all 
sorts  and  conditions,  ranging  in  kind  from  the  exquis- 
itely garbed,  innocent-faced  college  youths  (for  whose 
acquaintance  young  Francis  Morton  had  been  largely 
responsible  in  his  eagerness  not  to  have  Harriet  miss  a 
single  game  or  social  function  at  his  college)  to  the 
lusty  corn-fed  Westerners  she  had  met  the  preceding 
summer  while  visiting  in  Colorado  —  mining  engineers 
and  ranch  men  for  the  most  part  —  not  to  mention  the 
various  specimens  of  the  sex  encountered  abroad  and 
catalogued  in  her  mind  as  "  foreigners."  But  never  a 
one  had  she  loved.  If  she  had,  she  might  have  been,  as 
far  as  the  latter  class  was  concerned,  at  least,  countess  or 
duchess  many  times  over;  for  in  their  eyes,  the  millions 
of  the  late  Willard  T.  Rand  would  have  been  ample  in- 
ducement for  the  marriage,  even  if  his  daughter  had 
been  less  fair.  As  it  was,  however,  she  had  sailed  over 
the  troublous  waters  of  the  sea  of  love  as  serenely  and 
with  as  much  dignity  as  a  stately  swan  over  its  native 
waters. 

And  because  she  never  had  fallen  in  love,  Harriet 
decided  that  she  never  would  do  so.  She  had  satisfied 
herself  that  her  friendships,  her  horses,  her  drawing, 
and  her  travels  with  her  aunt,  could  fill  her  life  to  com- 
pleteness, fatherless  and  motherless  though  she  was. 
She  was  only  twenty-four,  and  singularly  childlike  and 
unsophisticated  in  a  great  many  ways,  at  least  in  so  far 
as  she  herself  was  concerned.  Her  knowledge  of  life 
as  applied  to  others  was  normally  sufficient ;  but  the  very 
nature  of  her  own  carefully  nurtured  and  sheltered  exist- 

[34] 


Patriotism  and  Peanuts 

ence  prevented  her  from  having  any  but  the  vaguest 
ideas  of  possible  storm  and  stress.  She  was  like  Kip- 
ling's ship  before  she  found  herself,  open  to  any 
interpretation  of  her  character  but  the  right  one ;  and 
while  she  enjoyed  a  gallop  upon  her  favorite  horse 
Phantom  more  than  anything  else  in  the  world,  she 
was  persuaded  that  in  reality  she  preferred  a  lecture  or 
a  musical  recital.  In  a  word,  good  red  blood  and  warm 
sympathies  were  at  a  discount  in  her  estimation  of  the 
needs  of  character,  and  brain  and  intellect  at  their  high- 
est valuation.  As  a  result,  the  men  she  knew  found  her 
rather  hard  to  talk  to;  even  those  among  them  who 
wished  to  marry  her  had  not  altogether  understood  her, 
and  had  fallen  in  love,  if  not  with  her  money,  then  with 
her  rare  disposition  or  her  beauty,  overlooking  almost 
to  a  man  her  undoubted  cleverness.  It  takes  a  clever 
man  to  appreciate  a  clever  woman,  and  most  of  the  men 
Harriet  had  known  well  were  more  notably  rich  or  well 
born  than  anything  else. 

And  yet  her  dearest  foe  could  hardly  call  the  girl 
complex.  She  was  easily  enough  understood  if  any- 
one were  to  disregard  her  own  valuation  of  herself  and, 
with  a  broader,  more  impersonal  judgment,  take  into  ac- 
count the  merits  incident  to  her  warm,  unselfish,  and 
sympathetic  nature.  But  that  was  one  of  the  many 
things  George  Benton  did  not  know  about  Harriet. 
He  was  not  very  clever  himself,  only  good  and  honest 
and  sufficiently  successful  in  his  business;  and  he 
thought  so  much  of  her  that  he  did  not  know  enough 
to  doubt  her  judgment  on  any  point.  So  he  talked  ta 

[85] 


The  Politician 

her  always  about  books  and  pictures  and  the  things 
he  thought  she  liked  to  talk  about  and,  not  being  par- 
ticularly interested  himself,  naturally  failed  to  interest 
her.  That  was  at  the  beginning  of  their  intimacy ;  but 
during  the  most  recent  of  the  many  years  he  had  known 
and  cared  for  her,  he  had  come  to  take  the  most  pleasure 
in  her  society  when  there  was  no  speech  between  them, 
when  perhaps  she  sewed  or  read  and  he  was  permitted  to 
sit  beside  her  smoking,  or  reading  too,  as  the  case 
might  be.  To  this  faithful  and  too  docile  lover  the 
joy  that  is  in  silence  was  as  familiar  as  to  any  cloistered 
monk,  and  it  was  therefore  with  a  look  of  envy  not 
unmixed  with  astonishment  that  he  observed  the  ani- 
mated conversation  in  which  Ellis  and  Miss  Rand  had 
engaged,  sitting  together  on  the  swinging  bench. 

"  It 's  the  most  amazing  thing  in  the  world,"  he  re- 
marked to  Mrs.  Presbey,  "  but  Harriet  actually  seems 
enthusiastic  when  your  brother  talks  to  her ! " 

Mrs.  Presbey  laughed  as  she  and  Benton  left  the  ter- 
race together;  for  Mrs.  Cumloch  had  suggested  bridge, 
and  her  guests  were  following  her  in  to  the  card  tables. 
"  Almost  human !  "  she  returned,  "  but  I  'm  not  at  all 
surprised.  That 's  Verney.  He  has  a  humanizing  ef- 
fect on  every  one ;  he  'd  have  it  on  a  stone  image,  I  verily 
believe,  if  he  were  left  alone  with  one ! " 

"Would  he?"  asked  Benton,  quite  seriously,  and 
casting  a  parting  rueful  glance  back  at  Ellis  and  Har- 
riet, who  had  excused  themselves  from  cards  and  were 
remaining  behind. 

"  Mr.  Ellis  has  n't  finished  his  cigarette,  Aunt  Lydia," 
[36] 


Patriotism  and  Peanuts 

Harriet  had  said,  settling  herself  more  comfortably  on 
the  capacious  swinging  seat.  "  Besides,"  she  finished, 
with  the  self-possession  of  a  girl  who  has  been  out 
four  years  and  around  the  world  more  than  once,  "  I 
want  to  talk  to  him." 

"  You  don't  want  to  talk  to  me  half  as  much  as  I 
want  to  talk  to  you,"  Ellis  remarked,  as  he  reseated  him- 
self at  the  other  end  of  the  porch  swing  and  noted  again 
the  fineness  of  the  girl's  profile  as  she  bent  to  adjust 
a  tall  lamp  near  her,  and  the  beauty  of  line  which  her 
bending  figure  displayed  in  spite  of  the  soft  folds  of 
her  rose-colored  gown.  He  liked  pretty  women,  did 
Verney  Ellis,  and  he  was  used  to  them,  too ;  so  that 
Harriet's  good  looks,  while  he  was  quite  aware  of  them, 
did  not  in  any  sense  take  his  breath  away.  And  as  far 
as  that  goes,  there  was  really  nothing  unusual  about  her 
sort  of  beauty.  She  owned  in  common  with  thousands 
of  other  young  American  girls  a  slim,  straight  figure 
and  regular  features,  and  shared  with  them  their  herit- 
age of  perfect  health  and  that  indefinable  air  of  "  class  " 
which  belongs  to  a  magnificent  majority  of  girls  all 
over  the  land.  Contour  and  line  constituted  her  claims 
to  beauty  rather  than  color  and  animation,  and  her 
special  title  to  distinction  lay  in  her  wide  dark  eyes, 
which  seemed  to  hold  within  their  range  of  vision  vistas 
of  another  land.  "  Madonna  eyes,"  George  Benton 
called  them,  but  then  George  Benton  was  very  much  in 
love. 

"  It  was  a  great  sight  this  afternoon,"  said  Harriet, 
rightly  taking  for  granted  that  he  would  talk  politics 

[37] 


The  Politician 

to  her  without  doubting  her  interest  where  he  had 
doubted  that  of  his  auditors  at  dinner.  To  that  ex- 
tent was  the  subtle  sympathy  at  work  between  them  felt 
by  both. 

"  You  mean  the  demonstration  for  Roosevelt  ?  "  ques- 
tioned Ellis. 

"Particularly,  yes.  Wasn't  it  really  wonderful? 
And  do  you  know,  what  impressed  me  most  about  it  was 
the  thought  that  he  was  listening  all  the  time ! "  said 
Harriet. 

"  Who?  the  Man  of  Impulses?  " 

"  Is  that  what  you  call  the  President  ?  " 

"  It 's  what  the  men  in  Wall  Street  call  him." 

"Why?"  Harriet  asked. 

"  Oh,  because  he  does  things  in  a  hurry,  I  suppose." 

"  His  impulsiveness  does  n't  seem  to  have  made  him 
any  less  popular,"  said  Harriet,  "  if  the  demonstration 
in  his  favor  to-day  was  any  proof.  Did  you  ever  see 
such  enthusiasm  ?  " 

"  No,"  returned  Ellis,  "  they  made  a  noise  all  right. 
But  did  you  notice  who  was  making  the  noise?  " 

"  Why,  the  people !  " 

"  Just  so ;  it  was  the  people,  the  excitement-loving, 
unthinking  rank  and  file  of  outsiders  who  had  '  come 
for  the  ride '  like  the  young  person  named  Hyde,  of 
Limerick  fame,  and  were  taking  their  money's  worth 
out  in  cheering.  But  the  delegates,  the  instruments 
of  government  chosen  not  by  the  *  people '  as  repre- 
sented by  those  few  odd  thousands  of  hysterical  per- 
sons in  the  Coliseum  this  afternoon,  but  by  the  think- 

[38] 


Patriotism  and  Peanuts 

Ing  majority  in  every  State  in  the  Union,  were  si- 
lent." He  paused,  and  his  meaning  sank  into  Harriet's 
mind. 

"  You  mean  that  the  demonstration  did  n't  count  for 
anything,  then?  "  she  asked. 

"  For  nothing  but  good  will.  The  men  who  were 
empowered  to  act,  you  see,  who  were  otherwise  in- 
structed with  the  approbation  of  the  President  himself, 
didn't  join  in  the  demonstration;  and  without  their 
cooperation  the  cheering  had  absolutely  no  significance 
—  not  if  it  had  lasted  forty  days  instead  of  forty 
minutes." 

"  How  strange ! "  said  Harriet,  taking  his  every  word 
for  gospel,  accompanied  as  it  was  by  kindling  glances 
from  his  bright  eye  while  he  spoke  and  that  impulsive 
catch  at  his  lip  when  he  ceased.  "  I  should  have  thought 
that  enthusiasm  so  spontaneous  as  that  must  have  had 
significance." 

"  It 's  a  question  even  whether  it  was  altogether  spon- 
taneous, that  is,  wholly  abandoned  and  unpremeditated," 
returned  the  young  man  thoughtfully.  "  I  myself 
think  it  was,  in  great  part ;  but  a  rather  amusing  inci- 
dent that  happened  near  where  I  was  sitting  convinced 
me  that  it  was  not  entirely  so.  There  was  an  old  man 
down  in  front  of  us,  about  the  middle  of  his  section,  who 
had  taken  off  his  coat  in  his  enthusiasm  and  was  wav- 
ing it  about  his  head  as  if  it  were  a  flag." 

"  I  know,"  interrupted  Miss  Rand ;  "  I  saw  him." 

"  Did  you?  Well,  you  remember  how  he  went  on, 
shouting  and  waving  his  coat  like  mad?  " 

[39] 


The  Politician 

"  Yes,  he  was  so  excited  he  did  n't  know  or  care  what 
he  was  doing !  " 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  he  did,"  corrected  Ellis, 
smiling;  "that's  just  my  point.  It  looked  like  spon- 
taneous feeling  pure  and  simple,  but  as  a  matter  of 
fact  he  knew  quite  well  what  he  was  doing,  so  much 
so  that  when  Tie  took  off  his  coat  and  before  he  began 
waving  it,  he  first  took  all  the  change  out  of  his  pock- 
ets !  Deliberately  put  his  hands  into  his  pockets  and 
extracted  his  money  so  that  he  should  n't  lose  it.  Spon- 
taneous, was  n't  it  ?  " 

*'  You  don't  mean  it  ?  "  she  said,  half  smiling  and 
half  shocked. 

"  Yes,"  affirmed  the  young  man ;  "  he  was  quite  near 
us,  and  I  saw  him."  They  laughed,  and  a  pause  ensued, 
with  an  unembarrassed  quality  about  it  as  in  the  pauses 
between  persons  who  have  known  each  other  long ;  and 
presently  Ellis  rose  and  walked  a  few  steps  over  to  the 
broad  stone  balustrade  of  the  unroofed  porch. 

"  Lord,  but  it 's  great  to  get  out  under  a  big  sky 
on  a  June  night  again  after  the  heat  and  noise  of  the 
convention !  "  he  said.  "  And  I  'm  glad  to  get  West 
too;  it's  something  I  don't  often  do,  but  I  like  it  a 
lot  when  I  get  here ! " 

"  And  that  from  a  New  Yorker ! "  returned  Harriet. 
"  But  I  'm  glad  you  like  us." 

"  I  do,"  said  Ellis,  "  both  the  place  and  the  people. 
It 's  bully  to  get  a  change  of  scene,  and  you  know  this 
little  visit  to  Chicago  is  fun  for  me,  and  restful.  Even 

[40] 


Patriotism  and  Peanuts 

the  convention  is  restful  when  I  think  how  I  shall  have 
to  work  when  I  get  back  to  New  York." 

"  Will  you  ?  What  will  you  have  to  do  ?  "  she  asked. 
"  What  is  the  next  move  on  the  political  programme?  " 

"  The  next  move,"  replied  the  Politician,  ceasing 
suddenly  to  look  out  upon  the  dim  starlit  stretch  of 
honest  Illinois  prairie  which  Mrs.  Cumloch  had  chosen 
to  leave  unadorned  on  that  side  of  the  house,  and  com- 
ing back  to  the  swing,  where  he  seated  himself  rather 
closer  to  Harriet  than  he  had  been  before,  "  the  bull's 
eye  upon  which  political  interest  will  centre  next  will 
be  the  question  who  shall  be  the  next  Governor  of  New 
York  State."  A  new  look  came  into  his  face  as  he 
spoke,  a  certain  decision  and  determination  that  closed 
his  lips  firmly  over  his  even  teeth,  and  brought  fire 
into  his  eyes.  Harriet  felt  vaguely  that  she  was  glad 
he  was  so  near  as  he  was. 

"  Won't  they  renominate  Downes,  the  present  Gov- 
ernor? "  she  asked.  Since  her  meeting  with  Ellis  four 
years  ago  she  had  kept  in  touch  with  politics,  and  was, 
as  Mrs.  Cumloch  had  remarked  to  Mrs.  Presbey  that 
afternoon,  "  unusually  well  informed  on  the  subject." 

"  Won't  he  get  the  nomination  again  ?  " 

"  Not  if  I  can  help  it,"  returned  Ellis,  tersely. 

"Why  not?"  she  enquired,  surprised.  "I  thought 
he  was  doing  so  much  reform  work  ?  " 

"  It  depends  upon  what  you  call  reform.  If  you 
mean  the  introduction  of  the  ideas  of  one  man  who  ex- 
pects unquestioning  obedience  to  them;  who,  though 

[41] 


The  Politician 

undeniably  able  and  honest,  is  narrow  and  has,  as 
Kipling  says,  '  too  much  ego  in  his  cosmos,'  I  think 
the  term  is  misapplied.  And  I  don't  think  it  is  ac- 
complishing any  reform  either,  to  discriminate  in  mak- 
ing appointments  against  men  who  have  done  party 
work,  to  suspect  the  integrity  of  men  who  have  been 
politically  active,  or  ta  assume  that  any  man  who 
has  been  an  energetic  organization-man  is  probably 
unfit  to  be  trusted  with  public  affairs." 

"Oh,"  said  Harriet,  "I  didn't  know.  I  didn't 
understand.  Then  you  don't  approve  of  the  Gov- 
ernor ?  " 

"  I  distinctly  do  not.  Neither  do  a  great  many 
men  in  politics  much  higher  up  than  I  am.  These 
reasons  among  others  I  might  give  for  disapproving 
of  him,  are  theirs  as  well  as  mine.  And  I  have  my 
private  ones,  too.  The  Governor  is  not  a  good  judge 
of  men,  and  he  has  appointed  sometimes  men  of  mediocre 
ability  and  sometimes  men  who  were  unfit.  Through 
this  same  lack  of  discernment  he  has  from  time  to  time 
been  misled  into  trusting  the  opinions  or  taking  the 
advice  of  men  whose  judgment  was  valueless  or  wrong, 
and  who  were  imposing  on  the  Governor  for  their  own 
ends.  Then,  too,  he  is  swayed  by  the  newspapers,  not 
controlled,  of  course,  but  influenced,  and  by  what  they 
say  of  him.  Of  course  I  believe  a  man  in  public  life 
should  watch  the  papers  with  care  to  learn,  so  far  as 
they  are  an  indication,  the  trend  of  public  opinion. 
But  they  are  a  most  unsafe  guide  to  follow  blindly. 
Often  they  represent  clamor  only,  and  the  courses  they 

[42]  ' 


Patriotism  and  Peanuts 

urge  would  be  disastrous  if  pursued.  A  man  should 
not  be  susceptible  to  their  flattery,  and  the  Governor 
I  think  is  too  much  so.  I  believe  that  of  him,  I  swear 
to  the  Lord  I  do." 

Any  one  of  Verney's  intimates  —  his  mother's  brother, 
Richmond  Vernor,  for  instance,  or  his  friends  among 
politicians  —  would  have  known  at  once  when  he  said 
"  I  swear  to  the  Lord "  that  Verney  was  speaking 
with  the  strength  of  absolute  conviction;  for  it  was 
an  expression  he  always  used,  rather  reverently  than 
as  one  breaking  the  third  commandment,  when  he  was 
most  in  earnest.  Patent  then  as  his  sincerity  was  to 
the  most  casual  observer,  how  was  it  other  than  inev- 
itable that  his  words  should  carry  conclusive  weight 
with  a  girl  like  Harriet,  whose  mind  was  like  fallow 
ground  ready  for  the  harrow,  and  who  admired  this 
man  with  whom  she  was  talking  more  than  any  man 
she  had  yet  met?  Downes  as  a  hero,  as  an  influence 
for  good,  was  blasted  forever  in  her  estimation  by  the 
lightning  of  the  young  politician's  frown. 

"  And  have  you  a  better  man  in  mind  to  nominate 
instead?  "  she  asked. 

"  Yes,"  he  replied ;  "  and  the  chief  reason  why  I 
think  he 's  better  is  because  he  bases  his  theories  of 
reform  upon  the  possibility  of  reforming  party  or- 
ganization, while  Downes  bases  his  upon  destroying  it. 
That 's  what  is  going  to  keep  me  working  so  hard 
when  I  get  back  to  New  York.  There  are  a  lot  of 
influential  men  who  think  the  way  I  do  about  this  man 
I  want  to  have  elected  the  next  Governor  of  the  State. 

[43] 


The  Politician 

It 's  so  early  in  the  game  I  hardly  like  to  mention  his 
name;  but  I  will  tell  you"  he  said,  and  Harriet  flushed 
at  the  implied  confidence.  "  It 's  a  great  friend  of 
mine,  a  man  named  Oliver  Ordway.  I  don't  know  if 
you  have  heard  of  him,  but  he  's  Speaker  of  the  House 
in  Albany." 

"  How  exciting ! "  said  Harriet,  her  eyes  alight ;  "  is 
he  a  young  man?  " 

"  Yes,  hardly  any  older  than  I  am.  Just  imagine, 
Governor  at  thirty-four !  Would  n't  that  be  an  honor?  " 
He  drew  in  his  breath  quickly  and  put  out  an  impulsive 
hand  toward  Harriet. 

She  knew  that  without  thinking,  as  naturally  and 
confidingly  as  a  little  boy  in  need  of  sympathy  for  some 
mighty  project,  he  wished  her  to  clasp  it.  And  she 
wished  that  she  could.  But  one  of  them  had  to  remain 
level-headed  and  unaffected  by  emotion,  or  what  was  to 
become  of  the  conventions?  Sympathy,  warm,  human, 
genuine  evidence  of  a  reciprocal  sentiment,  had  no  place 
in  their  harsh  philosophy,  and  it  was  a  philosophy  she 
had  been  brought  up  upon. 

"  And  you  ?  "  she  said,  leaning  toward  him ;  and 
though  she  did  not  take  his  hand,  George  Benton  would 
not  have  recognized  the  "  Madonna  eyes "  he  talked 
so  much  about,  so  of  the  world  worldly  was  their 
expression,  "  would  n't  it  mean  something  to  you  ? 
Would  n't  you  be  honored  too  ?  " 

"You  mean  get  an  office  if  my  friend  were  elected? 
Perhaps  I  would,"  said  Ellis  thoughtfully. 

"  But  that 's  not  why  you  are  going  to  try  to  get 
[44] 


Patriotism  and  Peanuts 

him  the   nomination,   is   it?  "   she  said  quickly,  but  it 
was  more  a  statement  than  a  question. 

"  Oh,  no !  "  he  replied,  "  material  reward  may  come  a 
man's  way,  of  course,  but  he  does  n't  go  into  politics 
for  the  sole  purpose  of  seeking  it,  you  know.  Not  if 
he  's  worth  anything." 

"  Then  what  does  he  go  into  politics  for,"  she 
asked,  "  patriotism  ?  " 

In  spite  of  herself,  her  tone  was  sceptical,  for  her 
previously  conceived  notion  of  the  character  of  a  politi- 
cian which  she  did  not  at  the  moment  associate  with  the 
man  to  whom  she  was  talking,  identified  it  with  that  of  a 
person  whose  only  ambition  is  self-aggrandizement. 

Verney  noticed  the  scepticism.  He  would  have  ex- 
pected it  from  most  people ;  if  he  had  been  in  the  habit 
of  discussing  such  things  with  every  one,  that  is ;  but 
from  Harriet  he  had  not.  That  was  why  he  permitted 
himself  to  talk  about  the  subject  with  her  at  all,  or  to 
admit  that  he  had  ideals.  It  was  a  little  disappointing, 
but  then,  he  reflected,  people  were  very  much  alike, 
and  the  idea  that  a  politician  could  not  by  any  pos- 
sibility be  an  honest  man  was  almost  universal,  and  with 
some  justification,  as  no  one  knew  better  than  himself. 
He  found  that  he  could  not  conscientiously  blame  her  for 
her  attitude. 

"  Why  not,"  he  said  gravely,  patiently,  "  why 
should  n't  patriotism  be  his  motive  as  well  as  more  un- 
worthy ones  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know.  No  reason  perhaps ;  only  — " 
she  hesitated. 

[45] 


The  Politician 

"  Only  that 's  not  a  sentiment  usually  attributed  to 
politicians  ?  "  he  said.  "  Is  that  what  you  were  going 
to  say?" 

"  Yes,"  she  admitted. 

"  I  was  afraid  so,  and  I  'm  afraid  you  're  right.  It 
is  n't  generally  attributed  to  them,  and  justly,  perhaps, 
because  it  is  perfectly  true  that  the  majority  of  men 
in  politics  are  quite  devoid  of  the  sentiment,  and  are 
actuated  only  by  motives  of  self-interest  and  gain ! " 

"  And  the  reputation  of  politicians  as  a  class  has 
suffered  in  consequence?  " 

"  Yes.  And  that  is  going  to  be  —  is,  one  of  my 
ambitions,  Harriet  —  to  clear  their  reputation,  raise 
it  from  the  mud.  To  say  that  a  man  's  a  politician  — 
in  the  sense  that  he  's  willing  to  work  for  his  country, 
should  mean  the  same  as  to  say  he  's  a  patriot.  And 
if  I  live,  if  one  man  can  do  it  by  being  straight  and 
honest  himself,  I  swear  to  the  Lord  I  '11  make  it  true ! " 
He  got  up  and  took  a  turn  up  and  down  the  terrace  in 
front  of  her,  his  graceful,  well-built  form  showing 
first  in  the  circle  of  light  cast  by  the  tall  porch  lamp 
and  then  against  the  faint  background  of  the  starry 
sky.  Up  and  down,  up  and  down,  he  strode,  his  arms 
folded,  his  eyes  alight,  his  brain  very  busy  with  big 
thoughts,  that  most  stimulating  of  all  stimulants  — 
ambition  —  rendering  him  for  the  moment  quite  ' in- 
conscious  of  his  surroundings  and  even  of  the  presence 
of  Miss  Rand. 

As  for  the  girl,  she  sat  and  watched  him  without  2 
murmur  of  protest  against  this  neglect,  arid  warming;  her 


Patriotism  and  Peanuts 

heart  with  the  thought  that  he  had  called  her  "  Har- 
riet," even  though  she  knew  as  she  cherished  it,  that 
he  had  done  so  quite  inadvertently  and  without  intent. 
In  the  same  way  she  glowed  at  the  recollection  of  that 
impulsive  hand  stretched  out  to  her  while  every  sense, 
every  one  of  her  well-trained  faculties,  told  her  that 
the  young  man,  this  fascinating,  this  altogether  charm- 
ing Verney  Ellis,  had  gone  to  school  of  women  to  learn 
that  charm.  His  undisguised  and  quite  delightful  as- 
sumption that  she  would  be  interested  in  what  interested 
him,  the  tones  of  his  voice  when  he  spoke  to  her,  his 
readiness  to  adjust  wrap  or  mantle  or  to  render  any 
small  service,  in  short,  his  "  little  way,"  were,  to  this  girl 
who  understood  men,  all  straws  pointing  which  way  the 
wind  blew,  and  left  her  acquainted  beyond  all  manner 
of  doubt  with  the  knowledge  that  he  had  known  many 
women  well  and  made  love  to  not  a  few.  As  he  was  to 
her,  so  he  was  to  them.  That  women,  on  the  other  hand, 
had  run  ceaselessly  and  untiringly  after  him,  she  took 
no  less  for  granted.  How  could  she  do  otherwise  when 
she  had  her  own  suddenly  acquired  admiration  of  him 
as  testimony  to  the  speed  with  which  he  acquired  ad- 
mirers? 

That  night,  when  he  had  gone  with  the  other  guests, 
she  went  to  her  aunt's  room,  long  hair  hanging  in  a 
dark  braid  down  over  her  silken  neglige. 

"  I  came  to  say  good-night,"  she  said,  settling  herself 
in  a  large  chintz  armchair  before  her  aunt's  open  fire- 
place, where  a  small  blaze  burned.  Though  it  was 
June,  the  evening  had  turned  rather  cold. 

[47] 


The  Politician 

"  Always  welcome,  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Cumloch,  pleasant 
and  smiling  as  she  moved  about  the  room  in  leisurely 
process  of  retiring,  receiving  at  intervals  the  atten- 
tions of  her  maid ;  and  then  at  random,  "  How  did  you 
like  Mr.  Ellis?" 

"  I  think  he  's  wonderful ;  I  think  I  'd  rather  have 
him  for  a  friend  than  any  man  I  know." 

"For  a  friend?"  queried  the  older  woman,  coming 
over  and  joining  Harriet  at  the  hearth,  having  at  last 
dismissed  her  maid. 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  girl,  "  I  care  about  men  as  friends 
only,  you  know,  and  Mr.  Ellis  is  so  interesting  —  his 
work  I  mean  —  and  he  's  so  alive !  " 

"  Oh,"  said  Mrs.  Cumloch. 

"  I  think  I  never  in  my  life  saw  any  one  with  such  a 
fresh,  strong  grip  on  the  fresh,  strong  things  of  life! 
And  it 's  such  a  pleasant  change  to  be  able  to  talk  to  a 
man  about  things  that  are  worth  while !  The  ordinary 
male  animal  has  n't  any  more  sense  than  to  reserve  noth- 
ing but  small  talk  and  personalities  for  his  girl  ac- 
quaintances. Now,  Mr.  Ellis  — " 

"  Yes  ?  "  said  her  aunt  with  the  interest  that  Harriet's 
interests  always  inspired  in  her. 

"  Well,  what  he  says  counts.  I  could  never  get  tired 
of  listening  to  him !  " 

Mrs.  Cumloch  sighed.  "  I  wish  you  felt  that  way 
about  George  Benton." 

"  Oh,  George  Benton"  said  the  girl,  and  a  moment 
or  two  later  she  rose.  "  Good-night,  Aunt  Lydia," 

[48] 


Patriotism  and  Peanuts 

she  said,  kissing  her  aunt  tenderly,  if  preoccupiedly* 
on  the  forehead. 

"  Good-night,  dearest,"  said  that  lady,  who  had  been  a 
widow  a  long  time  and  had  no  children  of  her  own,  so 
that  this  one  niece  was  very  dear ;  "  sleep  well !  "  And 
her  eyes  followed  the  young  girl's  figure. 

At  the  door  Harriet  turned.  "  I  think  it  might  be  nice 
to  go  to  New  York  for  our  shopping  trip,  earlier  than 
you  had  planned,"  she  said  with  an  abruptness  some- 
times characteristic  of  her.  "  New  York  is  very  at- 
tractive in  summer,  I  think." 

Miss  Rand  saw  Ellis  once  more  before  he  left  the 
city.  It  was  at  a  Saturday  afternoon  gathering  at  a 
certain  popular  club  by  the  lake,  not  much  outside  the 
city  limits,  to  which  belonged  a  number  of  people  who 
knew  each  other  well.  Harriet  was  pouring  tea  —  a 
task  that  bored  her  —  with  an  admirable  counterfeit 
graciousness,  and  a  number  of  men  were  keeping  the 
young  heiress  very  busy.  Ellis,  on  the  other  hand,  was 
playing  tag  out  on  the  lawn  with  a  small  girl  very 
much  spoiled  and  very  pretty  —  they  had  to  be  pretty, 
even  in  the  infant  stage,  to  please  Verney  —  who  be- 
longed to  the  Lee  Stantons.  And  this  in  spite  of  the 
fact  that  there  were  eighteen  or  twenty  more  or  less 
just  blossomed  debutantes,  with  droopy  hats  and  every 
variety  of  fetching  costume,  observing  him  out  of 
the  corners  of  their  eyes  from  the  porch,  while  they 
waited  for  him  to  speak  to  them.  They  did  not  look 
at  all  pleased  with  his  method  of  entertaining  himself. 
4  [49] 


The  Politician 

Harriet  was  probably  the  only  girl  there  who  was 
pleased,  and  she  thought  Ellis's  absorption  in  the  little 
girl  to  the  exclusion  of  the  big  girls,  delightfully  boy- 
ish and,  she  imagined,  characteristic.  And  she  was 
right.  Verney,  whose  restless  spirit  was  veritable  quick- 
silver, fagged  and  worn  a  little  as  he  was  with  the  strain 
of  the  convention  and  his  duties  there,  found  more  re- 
laxation in  his  game  on  the  lawn  with  the  child  than  in 
forcing  himself  through  the  first  steps  in  the  process 
of  becoming  acquainted  with  a  number  of  people  he 
probably  would  never  see  again.  And  Harriet,  he  saw, 
was  very  much  engaged.  So  tea  went  merrily  on  with- 
out him,  amid  talk  and  laughter  and  gentle  tinkling  of 
spoon  against  cup,  with  the  June  sun  shining  gayly 
down  on  the  picturesque  little  club-house,  the  crowd  of 
people  on  the  porch,  and  the  big  lake  shimmering  and 
sparkling  not  a  stone's  throw  away. 

"  Who  is  that  very  good-looking  young  man  playing 
with  the  Stanton  child  on  the  lawn  ?  "  asked  a  woman  near 
Harriet. 

"  I  really  don't  know,"  another  woman  replied,  at 
first  indifferently,  and  then  with  interest  as  she  turned 
her  eyes  toward  the  lawn  at  the  farthest  confines  of 
which  Verney,  hatless  and  with  tie  flying,  was  playing 
horse  and  driver  with  a  small  girl  in  a  white  dress, 
using  her  bright  blue  sash  for  reins.  "  I  wonder  who 
he  is,"  she  said ;  and  the  other  replied,  "  He  came  with 
the  Presbeys,  I  think,  and  some  one  said  he  was  a  New 
Yorker.  But  that 's  all  I  know  about  him."  And 

[50] 


Patriotism  and  Peanuts 

that  was  all  the  stir  the  Politician  made  at  the  Racquet 
and  Rudder  Club. 

But  in  spite  of  young  Miss  Stanton's  attempts  to 
keep  him  to  herself  all  the  afternoon,  he  found  time 
eventually  to  speak  to  Miss  Rand.  George  Benton  had 
just  departed  in  search  of  tealess  ones  with  the  cup  of 
Oolong  Harriet  had  last  poured,  when  Verney,  oppor- 
tune and  fortunate  as  he  usually  was,  appeared  at  the 
porch  railing  near  which  she  sat. 

"Won't  you  come  down  and  play  horse?"  he  said; 
"it's  great,  isn't  it,  Elizabeth?"  looking  down,  as  he 
spoke,  at  the  little  girl  whose  hand  he  clasped,  both 
of  them  warm  and  panting  from  their  exercise. 

"  Great !  "  she  mimicked  merrily ;  "  let 's  play  some 
more ! " 

"  See,"  he  said ;  "  she  likes  it! " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  smiled  Harriet,  "  but  she  's  a  little  girl! " 

"  And  you  're  a  big  one ;  what 's  the  difference  ?  " 

"  Every  difference  in  the  world,"  she  declared. 

"  Well,  maybe ;  but  never  mind,  come  on  and  play !  '* 

"  It 's  a  little  undignified,"  she  said,  getting  up, 
"  but  perhaps  I  will." 

"  You  'd  better,"  he  advised ;  "  we  have  some  pea- 
nuts, and  we  '11  give  you  some  if  you  're  good." 

"  Peanuts,"  she  laughed.  "  Oh,  that  settles  it  then. 
Why  didn't  you  tell  me  before?  "  and  she  joined  them 
on  the  lawn,  casting  a  hasty  deprecating  glance  at  the 
tea  table  she  was  deserting. 

"  Fine  business,"  said  Verney ;  "  and  now  let 's  play 
[51] 


The  Politician 

horse.  Elizabeth  would  rather  be  the  driver,  so  you 
and  I  will  have  to  be  her  fiery  steeds." 

"  I  want  to  be  a  fiery  steed ! "  said  Elizabeth,  the 
spoiled  one,  promptly,  shaking  her  curls  at  her  friend. 

"  Of  course,"  said  he ;  "  naturally  you  would,  being 
a  woman." 

"But  where  are  the  peanuts?"  interrupted  Harriet. 
*'  You  have  n't  given  me  any  yet." 

"  Peanuts  ?  "  he  repeated ;  "  who  said  anything  about 
peanuts  ?  " 

"  Why,  you  did !  You  said  you  'd  give  me  some 
if  I  came  down,"  cried  the  girl. 

"  Oh,  those  peanuts  !  "  he  replied.  "  My  dear  friend, 
did  n't  you  know  I  only  said  that  to  get  you  down  ?  " 

"  The  idea !  "  she  said.  "  And  you  really  have  n't 
any?" 

"  Not  one,"  he  returned  cheerfully ;  "  you  see,  I 
was  afraid  you  would  n't  come  for  me,  and  I  knew 
peanuts  would  get  you." 

"  I  am  fond  of  them ;  how  did  you  know  ? "  she 
laughed. 

"  Oh,  I  know  everything  —  real  curly  hair  when  I 
see  it,  and  when  people  don't  like  me,  and  how  to  put 
two  and  three  together." 

"  Silly,"  she  said ;  "  but  I  do  think  you  were  mean 
about  the  peanuts !  " 

"  There  you  see,  Elizabeth,"  he  said  to  the  little  girl 
trotting  happily  by  his  side  —  the  three  had  strolled 
some  distance  away  from  the  club-house  — "  she  thinks 
you  're  mean.  You  should  n't  have  deceived  her !  " 

[52] 


Patriotism  and  Peanuts 

And  the  child,  appreciating  to  the  utmost  the  fun  of 
this  sudden  transfer  of  responsibility  to  her  shoulders, 
laughed  delightedly. 

They  had  begun  with  peanuts,  Verney  and  Harriet, 
but  they  ended  with  Francis  Bacon. 

"  You  'd  like  to  read  them.  The  whole  of  the  philos- 
ophy of  life,  to  my  thinking,  is  contained  in  his  essays," 
he  told  her  as  they  stood  on  the  steps  of  the  club  with 
Mrs.  Presbey,  waiting  for  Lawrence  Presbey  to  bring 
his  motor-car  around.  The  convention  was  over,  and  it 
was  his  last  day  in  Chicago,  the  last  time  Harriet  would 
see  him  for  Fate  alone  knew  how  long,  since  he  left 
for  New  York  that  evening  with  the  other  delegates 
from  that  State. 

"  I  'd  like  to  send  you  a  copy  of  it  —  if  I  may. 
Good-bye,"  he  said;  and  with  a  last  firm  clasp  of  the 
hand  he  was  gone,  swallowed  up  by  the  Presbey's  auto- 
mobile and  whirled  away  before  the  girl's  very  eyes. 

"  Verney  is  certainly  a  great  fellow,"  Lawrence  Pres- 
bey remarked  to  his  wife  that  evening,  reaching  his 
apartment  on  the  Drive  just  in  time  for  dinner,  after 
seeing  his  brother-in-law  off  on  the  delegates'  special 
train.  "  And  '  pig-headed  '  is  n't  the  word  for  his  kind 
of  obstinacy." 

"  Particulars,  please,"  responded  his  wife ;  "  you 
always  assume  that  I  know  what  you  're  talking  about, 
Lawrie,  and  half  the  time  I  don't." 

"  Well,  you  know  that  little  Stanton  girl  he  was 
playing  with  at  the  '  Racquet  and  Rudder '  this  after- 
noon? "  explained  her  husband  obligingly. 

[53] 


The  Politician 

"  Yes,"  she  said. 

"  Well,  it  seems  Verney  told  the  kid  all  about  the 
convention  and  promised  to  get  her  one  of  the  flags 
they  'd  used  in  decorating,  as  a  memento." 

"  Just  like  him ! "  said  Vemey's  sister  with  a  sort  of 
irritation ;  "  he  'd  rather  be  doing  something  for  other 
people  than  not,  no  matter  how  absurd  or  impossible 
it  is." 

"That's  just  it  —  it  was  absurd.  It  was  all  very 
well  to  promise,  but  as  it  turned  out,  we  stayed  so  late 
at  the  club  we  did  n't  have  time  to  go  'way  up  to  the 
Coliseum  before  the  train  left." 

"  And  he  did  n't  get  it?  "  asked  Mrs.  Presbey.  "  Too 
bad  to  disappoint  the  child ! " 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  her  husband ;  "  how  quick  you 
are  to  jump  at  conclusions,  Cornelia.  If  you  think  a 
little  thing  like  losing  his  train  would  keep  him  from 
getting  that  flag,  you  're  mistaken.  What  do  you  sup- 
pose he  did?  " 

"  Oh,  almost  anything,  from  chartering  an  airship 
to  get  him  there  in  time  to  conjuring  a  flag  out  of  the 
sidewalk!" 

"  No,  he  insisted  upon  driving  over  to  State  Street 
and  buying  a  flag  at  one  of  the  big  dry-goods  stores. 
He  said  all  American  flags  looked  alike,  and  little  Eliza- 
beth would  n't  know  whether  it  came  from  the  Coliseum 
or  not  —  all  she  cared  about  was  having  the  flag." 

"And  did  you  go?"  asked  Mrs.  Presbey. 

"  You  bet  we  did !  I  argued  with  him  in  vain,  told 
him  he  'd  miss  his  train  sure,  but  he  swore  he  'd  rather 

[54] 


Patriotism  and  Peanuts 

do  it  than  disappoint  the  child,  embellishing  the  asser- 
tion with  some  of  his  choicest  profanity  —  you  know 
Verney  's  rather  good  at  that  —  and  we  started  off." 

"  He  has  a  fine  vocabulary,"  interrupted  Mrs.  Pres- 
bey.  "  I  think  he  got  the  habit  at  college,  and  really, 
though  I  deprecate  it,  he  's  such  a  past  master,  I  rather 
like  to  hear  him.  You  can't  help  admiring  perfection, 
you  know,  when  you  meet  it." 

"  You  ought  to  have  been  with  me,  then.  My  coun- 
try !  but  we  had  a  time.  The  machine  was  as  slow  as 
molasses  getting  through  the  crowd,  and  I  held  a  stop 
watch  on  the  obstinate  beggar  while  he  was  in  the  store, 
with  my  heart  in  my  mouth,  I  assure  you !  By  George, 
I  don't  see  how  he  possibly  made  it ! " 

"  I  could  have  told  you  he  would,"  replied  Mrs.  Pres- 
bey.  "  Verney  's  come  pretty  close  to  it  millions  of 
times,  but  I  don't  think  he  ever  actually  missed  a  train 
in  his  life." 

And  with  this  unconscious  commentary  on  a  trait 
of  her  brother's  character  which  perhaps  formed  its 
keynote, —  his  faculty  for  taking  every  kind  of  chance 
without  any  serious  consequences, —  the  Presbeys  went 
in  to  dinner. 


[55] 


CHAPTER  III 


"FOR  THE  HUNDREDTH  TIME" 


•  •  "1     ™^OR  the  hundredth  time,  Harriet,  won't  you 
r4        marry  me?  " 

M  The  speaker  was  George  Benton,  walking 

beside  Miss  Rand  on  the  smooth  lawn  of  the  country 
club  at  Lake  Forest  —  very  correct  in  his  becoming 
riding  attire  and  very  earnest  in  tone. 

The  two  had  been  riding  an  hour  or  more,  and  had 
stopped  at  the  club  for  tea.  It  was  Saturday  after- 
noon, and  the  place  was  at  its  gayest.  The  polo  down 
in  the  lower  meadows  was  over,  and  players  and  specta- 
tors alike,  the  former  conspicuous  in  their  light-blue 
coats  and  white  breeches,  were  engaged  in  the  grateful 
occupation  of  assuaging  a  just  thirst.  The  piazzas 
were  thronged,  and  straggling  lines  of  men  and  women 
were  still  trailing  across  the  golf  course  toward  the 
club-house.  Out  on  the  open  stone  terrace  in  front  of 
the  veranda  at  numerous  small  tables  sat  young  girls  in 
tennis  costume,  hair  bound  with  ribbons  pink,  blue, 
and  white,  ostensibly  to  keep  troublesome  locks  out  of 
the  way,  but  in  reality  for  effect,  talking  and  laugh- 
ing with  gilded  college  youths.  Back  under  the  shelter 
of  the  veranda  roof,  whose  shade  was  kinder  to  their 

[56] 


"For  the  Hundredth  Time" 

years  than  the  August  sun,  older  women,  mothers  and 
aunts  of  these  girls,  were  established  in  comfortable 
wicker  chairs  with  teacups  at  their  elbows,  making  the 
most  of  their  own  society,  their  contemporaries  of  the 
other  sex  having  sought  the  seclusion  of  the  club  buf- 
fet, while  here,  there,  and  everywhere,  sitting  on 
veranda  railings,  hanging  on  the  backs  of  chairs,  in 
quiet  corners  in  the  club  sitting-rooms,  the  young  mar- 
ried women  prevailed,  flirting  indefatigably  with  each 
other's  husbands  or  with  the  coterie  of  young  bach- 
elors without  which  no  married  set  considers  itself  com- 
plete. And  every  one,  maids  and  matrons,  with  the 
auxiliary  force  of  men  in  attendance,  was  sipping  some- 
thing. 

Harriet  and  Benton  having  had  their  tea,  iced  and 
served  in  a  remote  corner  of  the  piazza,  and  with  an 
unfinished  argument  on  their  hands  which  had  been 
raging  intermittently  from  the  moment  they  had  started 
on  their  ride  until  the  moment  when  the  groom  at  the 
club  had  taken  their  horses,  were  walking  over  the 
lawn  talking  earnestly,  in  the  direction  of  the  tennis 
courts,  where  a  fast  set  of  men's  singles  was  being  played. 
Not  that  they  had  any  special  interest  in  either  of  the 
champions  of  the  racquet  whom  they  could  see  beyond 
the  wire  backstop  rushing  frantically  about  the  grass 
court  in  their  white  clothes,  like  fish  in  a  tank,  shouting 
"  deuce  "  and  "  love-forty  "  at  each  other.  The  fact 
was  they  were  so  interested  in  what  they  had  to  say, 
that  they  did  n't  care  at  all  where  they  went. 

Harriet  was  trying  her  best  to  explain  to  George 
[57] 


The  Politician 

Benton  once  for  all,  so  that  the  matter  should  be  settled 
beyond  the  shadow  of  a  doubt,  how  utterly  impossible 
it  was  for  her  to  consider  marrying  him.  Riding  cos- 
tume is  usually  becoming  both  to  man  and  to  woman, 
and  it  was  especially  so  to  Harriet.  The  simple,  well- 
cut  coat  of  white  pique  followed  the  long  rounded  lines 
of  her  slight  figure  with  admirable  fidelity,  and  her  long 
graceful  step  revealed  at  intervals  a  fascinating  shiny 
black  riding-boot,  on  the  side  where  the  skirt  was  draped 
at  the  hip. 

"  Dear  George,"  she  said,  looking  at  the  young  man 
at  her  side  with  a  beautiful  compassion  in  her  Madonna 
eyes ;  "  if  only  you  would  n't  say  that !  If  only  I  could 
make  you  see  how  impossible  it  is  for  me  to  think  of 
such  a  thing !  I  don't  know  why  I  can't ;  you  're  so 
nice,  so  kind,  so  good  " —  they  were  over  beyond  some 
trees  now  and  in  no  danger  of  being  seen  either  from 
piazza  or  court  — "  but,"  she  ended,  clasping  her  hands 
almost  in  apology,  "  I  can't ! " 

"  I  know !  I  know  !  "  broke  in  Benton  hurriedly ; 
**  you  've  told  me  that  before,  that  you  don't  care  — 
as  I  do ;  but  what  I  say,  what  I  'm  asking  you  now  is, 
could  n't  you  care  enough  ?  " 

Harriet's  expression  became  troubled. 

"  I  don't  see  how  I  can  answer  you  that,"  she  said ; 
**  it 's  so  hard  to  know  what  '  enough '  would  be. 
You  'd  have  to  be  married  to  know  that,  and  I  'm  not." 

They  both  laughed  a  little  at  that ;  the  statement  was 
so  naive. 

"  I  wish  I  could  care,"  she  went  on,  "  just  because 
[58] 


'For  the  Hundredth  Time" 

I  think  so  much  of  you !  Because  we  've  always  known 
each  other  and  been  friends.  And  I  've  tried  to,  too ! 
I  have  truly,  Georgie," —  she  laid  her  hand  on  Benton's 
arm  in  piteous  appeal, —  "  but  it  does  n't  seem  to  do 
any  good."  He  shook  her  hand  off  rather  roughly.  It 
was  surprising  how  hard  a  woman  could  make  things  for 
a  man  at  such  times. 

"  I  don't  see  why,  when  I  feel  that  way  about  you." 
His  expression  softened  as  he  spoke,  and  his  far  from, 
handsome  face  became  almost  beautiful  in  its  tenderness. 
Harriet  was  ashamed  before  it;  it  seemed  such  a  pity 
that  such  love  should  be  wasted  on  some  one  who  did  n't 
want  it. 

"  Oh,  I  wish  you  did  n't,"  she  exclaimed  desperately. 
"  I  wish  I  could  persuade  you  you  did  n't  mean  it ! 
There  are  so  many  girls  in  the  world  that  are  much 
nicer  than  I !  I  'm  sure  you  could  care  about  them  in- 
stead, if  you  really  tried." 

"  But  I  won't  try,"  said  Benton,  with  such  impatience 
at  the  suggestion  that  he  did  n't  attempt  to  tell  her  how 
certain  he  was  that  there  were  no  girls  in  the  world  nicer 
than  she.  This  silenced  Harriet  for  a  moment,  and  in 
silence  they  went  on  over  the  close-clipped  grass  of  the 
golf  course  where  they  had  been  walking  for  some  time. 

At  one  of  the  greens  labelled  number  seven  by  a  red 
flag,  they  found  a  wooden  bench  and  seated  themselves. 

"  If  you  cared  for  any  one  else,"  said  Benton,  "  it 
would  be  different ;  but  as  long  as  you  don't,  I  don't 
see—" 

"  Why  I  should  n't  marry  you  ?  "  supplied  Harriet 
[59] 


The  Politician 

as  he  hesitated,  smiling  not  ironically  —  for  she  could  n't 
be  unkind  to  any  one  who  had  been  her  friend  so  long 
and  was  even  now  offering  her  what  is  considered  the 
greatest  honor  that  it  is  in  the  power  of  man  to  bestow 
upon  woman  —  but  rather  indulgently,  as  if  excusing 
in  George  Benton  this  proof  that  he  was  not  free  from 
the  egotism  common  to  his  sex,  which  will  never  permit 
a  man  to  believe  that  a  woman  really  means  to  refuse 
him. 

"  Could  n't  we  try  it  on  a  friendly  basis,"  he  asked. 
*'  I  'm  not  good  enough  for  you,  I  know,"  he  added 
with  a  real  humility  that  was  more  characteristic  of 
him  than  the  egotism  of  the  previous  speech ;  "  you 
ought  to  have  a  man  with  brains,  a  brilliant  man  with 
a  career,  and  goodness  knows  I  'm  dull  enough,  slow 
and  plodding  and  all  that  sort  of  thing,  but  I  'd  try 
awfully  hard  to  please  you,  Harry ! " 

"  I  know  you  would,  George ! "  murmured  the  girl 
soothingly. 

"  I  wish  I  were  clever  and  snappy  and  could  ever  be 
anything,"  he  went  on  vehemently ;  "  perhaps  you  'd 
take  me  then !  But  I  'm  not ;  I  'm  not  cut  out  to  be  an 
orator  or  a  playwright  or  a  hero.  I  could  n't  play  the 
leading  role  in  anything.  I  'm  just  a  plain,  everyday 
business  man  who  spends  his  days  working.  And  the 
worst  of  it  is  that  I  don't  even  have  to  do  that." 

This  was  true.  The  usual  incentive  which  inspires 
most  men  to  work,  the  necessity  for  it,  was  lacking  in 
George  Benton's  case.  Upon  the  death  of  his  parents 
he  had  inherited  a  substantial  fortune  in  property,  and 

[60] 


"For  the  Hundredth  Time'1 

could  have  lived  all  his  life  in  comfort  without  lifting 
a  hand  for  himself,  had  he  chosen  so  to  do.  In  this 
property,  by  the  way,  was  included  the  fifty-acre  farm 
in  Lake  Forest  some  few  miles  west  of  the  track,  where 
he  was  spending  the  summer  in  order  to  be  near  Har- 
riet Rand. 

Yet  in  spite  of  his  dissatisfaction  with  himself,  George 
Benton  was  in  every  way  a  fine  man.  He  had  a  homely 
face,  to  be  sure,  but  it  was  a  pleasant,  healthy  kind  of 
homeliness,  with  his  near-sighted  eyes  and  their  glasses, 
and  his  fine  big  nose  and  good  color;  moreover  with- 
out being  either  brilliant  or  intellectual,  as  he  had  him- 
self just  admitted,  he  was  an  excellent  business  man. 
His  patience  and  good  nature  made  him  universally 
liked;  and  though  no  man  could  praise  him  especially 
for  any  virtue  in  excess  of  another,  no  man  on  the  other 
hand  could  criticise  him  for  any  fault  pronounced 
enough  to  be  called  one.  He  was,  in  short,  one  of  those 
conscientious,  hard-working  men  of  simple  tastes  upon 
whom  a  fortune  is  wasted,  lacking  as  they  do,  the 
imagination  required  to  spend  one. 

"  I  know  you  don't  have  to  work,"  said  Harriet, 
"  but  that 's  the  very  reason  why  it 's  so  much  to  your 
credit  that  you  do." 

But  although  this  remark  was  eminently  sensible  and 
its  truth  indisputable,  she  was  not  thinking  at  all  what 
she  was  saying  when  she  made  it.  Her  thoughts  were 
far  afield  with  a  man  she  knew  who  had  a  career,  who 
was  brilliant  and  "  snappy  " —  the  kind  of  man  George 
Benton  had  said  she  ought  to  have. 

[61] 


The  Politician 

"How  about  it,  Harriet?"  said  Benton,  bringing 
her  suddenly  back  to  earth  to-  consider  the  immediate 
problem  before  her.  "  Are  n't  you  going  to  answer 
my  question  ?  " 

"  If  you  mean  about  marrying  you,  I  have  answered 
it,"  said  Harriet  gently.  "  I  told  you  I  could  n't, 
George,  that  I  'm  sorry,  but  I  can't,  j  ust  as  I ' ve  told 
you  so  many  times  before."  She  rose  and  the  man  did 
also.  "  I  wish  you  'd  promise  not  to  ask  me  again ! " 
she  added. 

"  I  could  n't  do  that,"  he  said  earnestly ;  "  you  see 
it 's  the  only  thing  in  the  world  I  want,  and  I  must  keep 
on  asking  for  it.  But  you  must  n't  mind ;  it  must  n't 
make  you  unhappy.  I  don't  want  you  to  think  of  me 
as  suffering  all  the  time.  I  don't  —  while  I  know  that 
I  still  have  a  chance,  you  know.  That's  why  I  can't 
bear  to  have  you  forbid  me  to  ask." 

"  I  won't,  then,"  Harriet  said,  tears  in  her  voice,  as 
they  walked  back  to  the  club.  That  was  the  way  it  al- 
ways ended;  she  had  never  been  able  to  bring  herself 
to  deprive  him  of  that  precious  hope  of  his.  Of  all  the 
conversations  they  had  had  on  this  subject,  this  one 
somehow  made  her  feel  the  worst.  Perhaps  because 
she  had  never  before  been  so  sure  that  she  could  n't 
marry  him.  But  he  was  so  loyal,  so  good,  so  devoted  a 
friend,  she  did  wish  she  did  n't  have  to  keep  on  hurting 
him. 

"  You  see,"  said  Benton,  almost  cheerfully,  "  I  'd 
rather  be  refused  by  you  than  be  accepted  by  any  other 
girl !  That 's  about  the  size  of  it.  So  I  'm  really  as 

[62] 


"For  the  Hundredth  Time" 

happy  as  I  can  be  under  the  circumstances,  and  you. 
must  n't  worry." 

He  glanced  solicitously  at  her  over  his  glasses  and 
Harriet  was  so  touched  by  his  anxiety  to  spare  her  any 
troubled  feeling  on  his  account  that  she  could  find  no? 
words  to  answer  him.  It  was  a  very  silent  ride  home. 

"  You  've  refused  him  again !  "  said  Mrs.  Cumlochr 
as  Harriet  came  up  the  steps  of  the  west  veranda  where 
her  aunt  was  sitting.  "  I  can  see  it  in  your  face." 

*'  I  can't  help  it,"  returned  the  girl,  leaning  on  the 
back  of  a  tall  chair,  her  eyes  on  the  gauntlets  she  was 
drawing  from  her  hands ;  "  he  will  persist  in  asking  me.** 

"  What  would  you  expect  the  poor  man  to  do,  if  he  *s 
unfortunate  enough  to  be  in  love  with  you  ?  " 

"  But  I  'm  not  certain  that  he  is,"  replied  Miss  Randy 
puckering  her  dark  brows  thoughtfully.  "  Sometimes 
I  think  it 's  only  just  a  craze  with  him,  a  sort  of  mon- 
omania ! " 

"  Exactly,"  said  Mrs.  Cumloch,  provokingly ;  "  that '» 
all  love  ever  is,  a  monomania.  At  least  until  it  becomes 
a  duomania !  You  've  described  it  with  great  accuracy 
for  a  girl  who  has  never  felt  the  fatal  passion  her- 
self." 

"  You  know  what  I  mean,"  said  Harriet ;  "  I  mean 
with  George,  his  feeling  for  me  is  more  a  matter  of 
habit  than  anything  else.  He  always  has  had  this  notion 
he  cares  about  me,  so  he  always  will  continue  to  have 
it!  Following  out  Spencer's  law  of  persistence,  you 
know,  that  what  has  endured  long  enough  to  have  a 
history  will  always  endure." 

[63] 


The  Politician 

"  Well,"  said  her  aunt,  "  I  don't  know  whether  it 's 
your  fault  or  Spencer's,  but  I  don't  seem  to  get  any  new 
idea  on  the  subject  yet." 

Harriet  seated  herself  slowly  and  gracefully  in 
the  chair  she  had  been  leaning  upon  and  pointed  her 
riding  crop  at  Mrs.  Cumloch  pedagogically. 

"  It 's  this  way,"  she  said.  "  What  I  think  is  that 
if  George  had  only  given  it  up  long  ago  when  I  first 
told  him  I  would  n't,  and  if  he  had  gone  with  other 
girls,  it 's  more  than  likely  that  he  would  have  forgotten 
all  about  this  obsession  of  his  in  regard  to  me  and  fallen 
in  love  with  some  one  else." 

Nothing  irritated  Mrs.  Cumloch  more  than  Harriet's 
casting  aspersions  on  the  genuineness  of  the  young 
man's  attachment  to  her.  She  thought  it  positively 
stupid  in  the  face  of  his  ten  years'  devotion. 

"  A  very  original  and  ingenious  theory,  I  'm  sure," 
she  said  drily,  "  and  one  that  does  credit  to  your  in- 
telligence. One  would  never  suppose  that  you  were 
twenty-four  years  old  and  had  been  proposed  to  dozens 
of  times  before." 

"  But  Aunt  Lydia,"  protested  Harriet,  shaking  her 
head  earnestly,  "  I  really  do  feel  that  way  about  it. 
You  remember  how  it  all  started?  He  had  the  measles, 
and  while  he  was  convalescing  his  mother  used  to  ask 
me  to  come  over  and  read  to  him  and  amuse  him,  and 
I  did;  and  once  I  believe  I  was  rash  enough  to  bring 
Jiim  some  violets." 

"  Yes,  I  know,  but  what  does  that  prove?  " 

"  Nothing,"  said  Harriet ;  "  only  that  we  came  to 
[64] 


"Didn't  you  even  tell  your  best  friend,  when  they  proposed ? " 


"For  the  Hundredth  Time" 

know  each  other  better  than  ever,  though  we  'd  always 
known  each  other,  and  he  became  sort  of  used  to  seeing 
so  much  of  me,  and  that 's  where  he  acquired  his  idea 
that  he  cares  for  me.  He  caught  it  along  with  the 
measles." 

"  Very  clever,  I  'm  sure,"  said  Mrs.  Cumloch,  sa- 
tirically. Benton  was  a  great  favorite  of  hers,  and 
Harriet's  refusal  to  marry  him  was  a  sore  trial.  She 
was  an  ardent  believer  in  the  dogma  that  money  should 
marry  money.  "  Very  clever,"  she  repeated ;  "  and  yet 
I  should  never  think,  myself,  of  ascribing  a  man's  love 
to  such  a  cause  as  that.  Measles,  indeed !  " —  indig- 
nantly — "  really,  Harriet,  if  you  're  going  to  be  so 
absurd,  you  must  excuse  me  if  I  continue  to  read  my 
book."  And  she  resumed  the  volume  she  had  put  down 
upon  the  appearance  of  her  niece. 

Harriet  laughed  half-heartedly,  as  her  aunt's  par- 
tiality for  Benton  was  well  known  to  her. 

"  Well,  I  don't  care,"  she  said ;  "  it  'was  the  measles 
that  did  it,  I  'm  sure."  Then,  as  she  went  into  the 
house,  "  I  'm  going  to  telephone  Pauline  Wright  to 
come  over  for  dinner  and  spend  the  night,  if  you  don't 
mind?" 

"  You  always  telephone  for  Pauline  Wright  whenever 
you  've  refused  poor  George ! "  replied  Mrs.  Cumloch. 
"  I  'm  sure  I  don't  see  why.  It 's  bad  enough  to  refuse 
him  without  talking  about  it.  We  had  finer  notions 
of  honor  when  I  was  a  girl." 

"  Did  n't  you  even  tell  your  best  friend,  when  they 
proposed?  "  said  Harriet,  coming  back  to  lean  over  her 
5  [65] 


The  Politician 

aunt's  chair  and  put  her  arms  about  Mrs.  Cumloch's 
shoulders;  "  just  one  other  girl?  " 

"  Well,  perhaps,  just  one,"  said  the  older  woman, 
smiling  against  her  will  at  her  niece's  "  they." 

"-'I  knew  you  did !  "  said  Harriet,  running  back  into 
the  house,  and  presently  Mrs.  Cumloch  heard  her  at 
the  telephone. 

That  evening,  just  as  Mrs.  Cumloch  had  predicted, 
Harriet  told  Pauline  Wright,  who  had  accepted  the  in- 
vitation to  spend  the  night,  all  about  it. 

"  Is  n't  it  a  shame ! "  she  ended ;  "I  do  wish  he 
Wouldn't!  I  feel  it 's  just  a  good  man  gone  to  waste, 
iyou  know,  Polly,  and  I  do  like  him  so  well,  so  much, 
that  I  should  like  him  to  be  happy." 

Pauline  Wright,  a  slim  little  girl  with  ash-brown  hair, 
•Berious  blue  eyes  and  such  a  sweet  expression  that  «no 
One  realized  that  she  was  n't  especially  pretty,  nodded 
Jier  head  assentingly. 

"  It  is  too  bad,"  she  said ;  "  George  is  such  a  nice 
ifellow."  She,  too,  had  known  Benton  all  her  life.  She 
Was  the  daughter  of  a  physician  in  Lake  Forest,  a  girl 
of  great  character  and  luxurious  tastes,  who  had  never 
in  her  life  known  what  it  was  to  have  enough  pocket 
money,  and  to  whom  economy  was  as  daily  bread. 

She  and  Benton  and  Harriet  with  young  Francis 
Morton  had  made  up  a  "  foursome  "  of  young  people 
who  had  gone  everywhere  and  done  everything  together, 
from  their  childhood  up. 

"  Now  you  and  he,  for  instance,"  Harriet  went  on, 
beginning  to  brush  out  her  hair  —  she  had  come  into 

[66] 


"For  the  Hundredth  Time' 

her  guest's  room  for  a  talk  before  they  went  to  bed— - 
"  you  'd  make  an  awfully  good  pair.  I  'm  disappointed 
with  George  that  he  does  n't  see  it  that  way." 

Pauline  smiled,  without  resenting  Harriet's  failure  to 
consider  her  wishes  in  the  matter,  nor  did  the  remark 
seem  egotistical  or  patronizing  to  her.  She  knew  Har- 
riet Rand  well  enough  to  know  that  though  she^might 
discuss  with  an  old  friend  an  affair  of  the  kind  some- 
times when  she  needed  advice,  it  was  utterly  foreign  to 
her  noble  nature,  which  knew  no  petty  vanity,  to  boast 
of  her  conquests,  and  she  easily  believed  that  Harriet  was 
sincere  in  tl  inking  it  as  likely  for  Benton  to  have  be- 
come interested  in  her,  Polly  Wright,  as  in  a  beauty  and 
an  heiress. 

"  But  he  does  n't,"  she  replied,  equably,  and  so  evenly 
that  if  for  her  part  she  too  had  wished  that  it  were  she, 
not  Harriet  Rand,  that  the  young  man  was  interested 
in,  no  one  would  have  been  able  to  tell  it  from  her  tone. 

"  I  wish  you  had  had  a  chance  to  talk  to  Mr.  Ellis  the 
other  night,"  said  Harriet  presently,  coming  round  last 
to  the  subject  that  was  first  in  her  thoughts.  "  He  is 
the  most  interesting  man  I  've  ever  met !  He  does 
things,  you  know,  goes  in  for  politics  and  things  like 
that." 

"  I  wish  I  had.  Francis  Morton  said  he  thought  you 
were  crazy  about  him,"  returned  Polly.  She  fixed  a 
grave,  considering  look  upon  her  friend,  a  little  quiver 
of  eagerness  about  her  mouth  as  if  she  were  anxious 
for  Harriet's  reply. 

"  Francis  is  never  accurate  in  his  judgments,"  Har- 
[67] 


The  Politician 

riet  answered  deliberately.  "  I  'm  not  '  crazy  about 
him  ' —  to  use  the  vernacular  —  at  all.  I  only  like  him. 
You  know  I  am  never  '  crazy  '  about  any  one." 

"  Well,  you  know  you  did  sit  out  on  the  porch  with 
him  all  the  evening  when  the  rest  of  us  were  playing 
bridge." 

"  So  I  did,  but  that  does  n't  prove  anything.  We 
talked  about  his  work,  about  politics,  every  single  min- 
ute." Harriet  finished  arranging  the  big  bow  of  pink 
ribbon  with  which  she  had  been  busy  tying  up  her  hair, 
as  she  spoke.  "  Let 's  go  to  bed,"  she  added. 

"  Oh,  did  you  ?  "  commented  Miss  Wright,  in  reference 
to  Harriet's  information  that  she  had  only  talked  poli- 
tics with  the  fascinating  Mr.  Ellis ;  and  though  her 
voice  was  cheerful  enough,  a  slight  trace  of  disappoint- 
ment might  have  been  observed  in  her  face  as  she  bade 
her  friend  good-night. 


[68] 


CHAPTER  IV 

POLITICS  AND  LETTERS 

THAT  Verney  Ellis  should  have  become  inter- 
ested  in  politics  was  not  at  all  as  unnatural  a 
thing  or  as  inexplicable  a  taste  as  his  sister,. 
Mrs.  Lawrence  Presbey,  would  have  had  people  think. 
A  slave  herself,  more  or  less,  to  custom  and  habit,  and 
much  influenced  by  the  authority  of  precedent,  it  was 
difficult  for  her  to  conceive  why  her  brother  should  be 
drawn  to  that  kind  of  life  when  there  had  never  been 
a  politician  in  the  family  before.  The  Ellises  had,  al- 
most all  of  them,  been  professional  men ;  and  inasmuch 
as  Verney  had  his  law  business,  his  own  shingle  inde- 
pendent of  his  father's  firm,  to  occupy  him,  it  seemed 
strange  to  her  that  he  should  wish  to  "  mix  up  "  with 
politics  when  there  were  plenty  of  people,  she  was  sure,, 
who  were  ready  and  willing  to  do  the  country's  "  dirty 
work  " ;  and  that,  by  the  way,  was  all  that  politics  meant 
to  her.  But  in  summing  up  the  case  in  this  fashion 
she  failed  to  reckon  with  the  surplus  store  of  energy 
with  which  her  brother  was  endowed,  which  did  not  find 
sufficient  outlet  in  his  law  business,  and  which  was  al- 
ways inciting  him  to  seek  some  new  direction  of  effort. 
Her  own  existence  as  Cornelia  Ellis  of  7  West  Twelfth 
[69] 


The  Politician 

Street,  New  York  City,  had  been  so  stereotyped,  so  much 
a  duplicate  of  Winifred's  (her  older  married  sister), 
in  its  prescribed  routine,  from  the  days  when  she 
attended  a  private  school  on  Fifth  Avenue  in  short 
skirts  to  the  moment  when  she  married  Lawrence  Pres- 
bey,  a  young  man  of  means  from  Chicago,  that  it  was 
quite  beyond  her  powers  of  comprehension  to  grasp 
•why  her  brother's  existence  should  not  be  equally  conven- 
tional and  circumscribed.  Why  he  should  not  be  content 
Trith  debutante  teas  and  the  conservative,  aristocratic 
practice  of  law,  exclusive  of  any  greater  ambition,  she 
could  not  understand.  Verney's  father  and  mother  also 
held  views  in  regard  to  his  going  into  politics,  very 
similar  to  those  of  Mrs.  Presbey.  But  although  this 
lack  of  sympathy  hurt  the  young  man,  to  whose  warm 
and  expansive  nature  sympathy  was  very  dear,  it  in  no 
•wise  militated  against  the  strength  of  his  set  purpose 
or  altered  his  determination  to  enter  a  field  which  he  be- 
lieved offered  him  a  wider  sphere  of  usefulness.  It  only 
resulted  in  his  keeping  his  ambitions  to  himself  and  in 
its  becoming  an  understood  thing  that  politics  was  a 
forbidden  subject  in  his  home. 

Not  that  his  father  —  senior  member  of  a  law  firm 
of  excellent  and  long-established  reputation  —  had  any 
violent  feeling  of  antagonism  toward  a  political  career 
&&  such;  but  he  was  an  old  man  and  had  of  late  years 
lost  a  great  deal  of  property  in  one  way  and  another, 
so  that  his  resources  were  greatly  reduced,  which  made  it 
a  matter  of  necessity  almost  that  his  youngest  son  should 
support  himself,  where  his  two  older  sons,  Clinton  and 

[TO] 


Politics  and  Letters 

Benjamin,  at  Verney's  age  had  had  only  a  moral  obliga- 
tion to  work.  And,  of  course,  as  every  one  knows  and 
Verney  knew  too,  there  's  no  money  to  be  made  in  politics 
where  patriotism  is  the  only  motive  for  entering  that 
field ;  though  equally,  of  course,  as  much  money  may  be 
spent  as  a  man  pleases  to  spend.  On  the  other  hand, 
Verney  had  a  well-started  law  practice  that  his  brilliance 
and  talent  were  expanding  every  day,  which  would  un- 
doubtedly suffer  if  he  divided  his  interests  and  gave  half 
his  time  to  politics.  As  for  his  mother's  prejudice  in  the 
matter,  it  amounted  to  nothing  more  than  a  conservative 
feeling  that  a  family  as  ancient  and  well  known  as  the 
Ellises  should  never  on  any  account  make  itself  con- 
spicuous ;  and  to  her,  politics  and  publicity  meant  one 
and  the  same  thing. 

After  a  few  years'  practice  in  his  profession,  to  which 
he  had  devoted  himself,  as  he  did  to  everything,  with 
his  whole  heart  and  soul,  Verney  had  suddenly  conceived 
the  idea  that  he  was  not  doing  his  full  duty  by  either 
city  or  State  or  country  in  not  interesting  himself  in 
the  machinery  of  government.  This  awakening  to  a 
sense  of  responsibility  in  the  matter  was  brought  about 
partly  through  his  friendship  with  a  man  a  few  years 
older  than  himself,  who  was  a  graduate  of  the  same  col- 
lege and  a  member,  as  he  was,  of  Squadron  A,  namely 
Oliver  Ordway,  for  whom  Verney  had  a  great  admira- 
tion and  who  had  long  been  interested  in  politics.  Ord- 
way, as  leader  of  the  Twelfth  Election  District,  to  which 
both  men  belonged,  had  often  asked  Verney  to  assist 
him  in  his  work  at  election  time,  and  was  very  glad  to 

[71] 


The  Politician 

accept  the  young  man's  permanent  assistance  when 
Verney  made  offer  of  it.  Young  Ellis  had  therefore 
plunged  into  politics  with  a  glutton's  appetite  for  work, 
like  an  engine  which  has  been  running  at  half  speed, 
upon  suddenly  discovering  all  its  latent  power.  To  be 
sure,  the  scope  afforded  by  the  affairs  of  the  Twelfth 
Election  District,  which  was  only  a  subdivision  of  the 
Twenty-sixth  Assembly  District,  was  small,  but  it  was 
not  long  before  his  influence  was  felt,  which  made  it  the 
most  natural  thing  in  the  world  that  he  should  be  chosen 
leader  in  his  friend's  stead  when  Ordway  himself  had  been 
moved  up  a  place. 

After  that  it  would  have  been  easier  to  extract  a 
burr  from  a  sheep's  back  or  remove  a  barnacle  from, 
a  rock  than  to  coax  Ellis  to  give  up  politics.  If  his 
attempts  to  "  clean  out "  a  "  rotten  gang,"  which  a 
little  later  had  secured  control  of  his  Assembly  District 
had  not  been  sufficiently  interesting  to  keep  him  to  his 
purpose,  and  if  the  tremendous  fascination  of  the  game 
( for  game  it  is  in  many  senses )  —  the  exhilaration  of 
contest  with  men,  the  matching  of  brains,  and  the  con- 
stant revelation  of  human  nature  which  it  invoked  —  had 
had  no  charm  for  him,  Ellis's  original  reason  for  going 
in  would  have  been  sufficient  to  insure  his  constancy. 
For  his  highly  proper  belief  that  men  of  character 
should  enter  politics  even  at  a  personal  sacrifice,  rather 
than  leave  the  reins  of  government  to  men  of  no  ideals 
and  corrupt  and  unscrupulous  methods,  was,  after  all, 
the  mainspring  of  his  enthusiasm. 

But  of  course  a  man  of  his  spirit,  with  his  keen  zest 
[72] 


Politics  and  Letters 

for  novelty  and  change,  could  not  but  appreciate  and 
enjoy  the  excitement  which  the  life  offered  and  the 
chance  for  obtaining  power  and  place  as  well  as  the 
increased  opportunities  for  wielding  a  salutary  influence. 
He  was  only  human,  after  all,  and  though  he  had  entered 
the  lists,  as  it  were,  with  motives  of  the  most  exalted 
character  and  with  no  thought  of  personal  aggrandize- 
ment, as  the  possibilities  of  the  conflict  opened  out 
before  him  and  the  smoke  of  battle  compassed  him  about, 
he  could  not  but  realize  that  with  the  fighting  came  spoil 
for  the  victor  and  that  prizes  and  guerdon  were  to  be 
had  for  the  winning,  and  that  they  might  as  well  be 
won  by  himself  as  by  another  less  honest.  His  taking 
this  into  account,  however,  did  not  affect  his  principles 
or  his  ambition  to  do  right.  Nothing  could  affect  these ; 
for  even  had  the  integrity  of  the  young  man  in  itself 
been  at  fault,  two  guiding  spirits  invoked  by  him 
watched  over  his  career.  For  Verney,  though  thirty- 
one  that  June,  at  the  time  of  the  convention,  was  still 
young  enough  to  be  something  of  a  hero-worshipper; 
and  in  his  room  at  7  West  Twelfth  Street  —  a  remark- 
able apartment,  by  the  way,  if  taken  as  an  index  of 
character  —  two  portraits  hung  as  inspiration  and  ex- 
ample, under  which  the  Politician  burned  incense. 

One  was  a  painting  of  Napoleon  Bonaparte,  arms 
folded,  chin  on  breast,  brooding,  unsatisfied  eyes,  and 
brow  dark  with  ambition  and  hate  of  the  world  he  could 
not  quite  conquer,  yet,  above  all  else,  great;  the  other 
was  a  portrait  of  Abraham  Lincoln,  rugged-faced,  sor- 
rowful-eyed, and  homely,  but  great  also,  though  with 

[73] 


The  Politician 

a  greatness  to  which  selfish  ambition  was  a  stranger,  and 
who  loved  the  world  and  his  fellow-men  better  than  he 
loved  himself.  There  was  nothing  that  Ellis  did  not 
know  about  the  life  of  each,  fascinated  as  he  was  by  the 
tremendous  achievements  of  the  one  —  that  unsurpassed 
egotist  whose  despotic  will,  coupled  with  a  consuming 
love  of  power,  had  raised  him  to  an  eminence  rarely 
equalled  in  history  —  and  by  the  exalted  character  of 
the  other  —  that  selfless  soul  who  had  no  ambition  save 
to  serve  his  country,  who  sought  no  reward  for  serving 
it  but  his  country's  good,  whose  patriotism  was  a  beacon- 
light  to  the  patriots  of  history.  And  only  Verney  — 
confessed  patriot,  unconfessed  disciple  of  ambition 
• —  knew  under  which  portrait  he  stood  the  oftenest, 
burned  the  most  incense. 

Yet  although  he  went  into  politics  hoping  that  with 
the  entry  of  every  man  of  his  class  and  stamp  the  gen- 
eral average  of  politicians  might  be  raised  to  a  higher 
standard,  and  although  it  was  his  intention  to  see  that 
some  methods  and  practices  of  which  he  disapproved 
were  done  away  with;  in  short,  though  he  was  in  every 
instance  governed  by  principle,  he  was  not  a  "  political 
reformer  "  in  the  generally  accepted  sense  of  the  phrase. 
He  was  not,  in  a  word,  what  is  styled  a  "  new  school " 
reformer.  He  did  not  believe  in  direct  primaries ;  that 
is,  in  choosing  candidates  for  office  by  direct  vote  of  the 
people  instead  of  through  conventions;  he  did  not  be- 
lieve in  the  abolition  of  political  organizations.  Firm 
in  his  conviction  that  the  government  of  his  country  was 
a  party  government,  he,  like  many  able  men  in  public 

[74] 


Politics  and  Letters 

life,  believed  that  the  true  secret  of  reform  lay  not  in 
abolishing  political  organizations,  but  in  improving  or 
reforming  them.  The  method  of  achieving  these  ends 
he  thought  lay  in  giving  the  organizations  as  leaders 
men  of  ideals  and  morals  as  well  as  ability,  so  that  the 
organizations  might  be  strong  and  efficient  and  yet 
the  machinery  of  government  not  be  perverted  to  the 
selfish  uses  of  unpatriotic  and  corrupt  men. 

He  was  convinced  that  universal  suffrage,  and  the 
indifference  of  people,  and  their  lack  of  knowledge  of 
political  affairs,  provided  the  reason  and  necessity  for 
party  government.  He  was  all  the  more  impressed  with 
this  because  in  the  city  in  which  he  lived  many  thousands 
of  voters  were  foreigners  with  modes  of  thought  and  life 
absolutely  different  from  American  manners  and  cus- 
toms, with  no  ideas  of  the  principles  or  methods  of 
American  government  —  ignorant,  suspicious,  and 
easily  led.  While  he  realized  that  when  the  attention 
of  the  public  was  centred  upon  some  one  issue  of  vital 
importance,  particularly  if  it  involved  a  moral  question, 
the  people  at  large  could  be  relied  upon  to  reach  right 
conclusions,  he  believed  that  in  general,  ordinary  people 
had  neither  time  nor  inclination  to  attend  to  their  own 
political  affairs,  and  that  they  must  be  guided  and  their 
opinions  created,  by  political  parties  which  were  per- 
manent and  responsible,  whose  leaders  made  politics,  so 
to  speak,  their  business. 

While,  during  a  presidential  election,  the  average  man 
might  not  be  able  to  avoid  absorbing  some  knowledge 
and  perhaps  even  an  intelligent  opinion  of  the  candi- 

[75] 


The  Politician 

dates  of  the  great  parties,  the  number  of  men  who  gave 
more  attention  to  the  batting  average  of  their  favorite 
baseball  hero  than-  to  the  character  of  the  candidates 
for  whom  they  voted  constituted  in  Verney's  mind  a 
large  majority.  To  place  in  the  hands  of  such  persons 
the  selection  of  a  large  number  of  candidates,  a  task 
which  could  be  intelligently  performed  only  by  a  care- 
ful consideration  of  the  fitness  of  each  of  the  candidates 
for  the  different  offices,  involving  both  personal  knowl- 
edge of  the  candidates  and  acquaintance  with  the  duties 
of  the  offices,  was  in  his  opinion  impracticable. 

However  liable  to  abuse  conventions  were,  through 
manipulation  and  control  by  party  bosses,  he  believed 
that  the  selection  of  candidates  by  conventions  resulted 
in  a  more  intelligent  choice.  He  was  a  sufficiently  ex- 
perienced and  clear-seeing  politician  to  detect  many 
practical  difficulties  in  all  the  proposed  and  existing 
schemes  for  direct  primaries,  and  to  foresee  the  many 
evils  to  which  they  were  likely  to  lead,  some  of  which 
were  in  his  opinion  greater  than  the  evils  of  the  existing 
system.  He  believed  in  the  selection  of  candidates  by 
conventions  composed  of  delegates  directly  representing 
the  people,  and  felt  that  to  secure  the  selection  in  the 
party  organization  and  in  the  convention,  of  men  of 
clean  purpose  and  good  judgment,  was  the  point  to  be 
aimed  at  in  improving  present  conditions.  In  this  sense 
he  was  as  much  and  as  ardent  a  reformer  as  any  of  the 
young  dreamers  coming  to  the  fore  all  the  time,  who  ex- 
pected to  make  over  politics  at  a  bound,  who  were  for 
"  stern  duty  "  only,  and  who  talked  very  loudly  about 

[76] 


Politics  and  Letters 

"  corruption  "  and  the  "  evils  of  politics."  "  Organ- 
ization," like  the  "  Onward  and  Upward  "  of  the  Salva- 
tion Army,  was  the  watchword  of  his  political  faith, 
and  without  organization  he  believed  that  nothing  could 
be  done. 

Yet,  though  he  had  ideals  as  well  as  these  avowed 
reformers,  or  "  extremists  "  as  he  called  them,  he  did  not 
any  the  less  hesitate  to  "  play  the  game  as  it  was  played," 
though  perhaps  the  extremists  would  in  many  instances 
have  considered  his  methods  unworthy.  But  that  was 
just  the  difference  between  their  kind  of  reform  and 
Ellis's.  They  were  idealists,  and  he  was  a  man  with 
ideals,  which  admitted  of  his  being  other  things  besides 
—  a  believer  in  common  sense,  for  one  thing.  He  was 
keen  enough  and  man  enough  to  realize  in  playing  his 
cards  that  the  elements  he  had  most  to  deal  with  were 
self-interest  and  human  weakness,  and  that  in  order  to 
get  men  to  do  what  he  wanted  them  to  do,  he  must  play 
upon  their  selfish  motives  and  interests.  And  he  very 
often  did. 

An  incident  illustrating  this  practical  side  of  Verney's 
politics  happened  one  evening  in  connection  with  one 
of  the  thirty  captains  of  the  Election  Districts  within 
his  Assembly  District.  When  Verney,  as  leader  of  the 
District,  first  asked  those  thirty  men  to  take  up  the  work 
as  captains,  he  did  not  ask  them  to  do  it  on  moral  or 
altruistic  grounds.  He  did  tell  them,  to  be  sure,  that  he 
believed  they  would  be  performing  a  duty  and  that  they 
would  find  the  work  interesting ;  but  he  urged  them  par- 
ticularly to  do  it  because,  he  said,  if  they  worked  well 

[77] 


The  Politician 

enough  and  long  enough,  they  might  expect  to  have 
come  to  them  increase  of  salary,  promotion,  appoint- 
ments, additional  business,  or  some  material  gain  directly 
or  indirectly.  On  the  night  in  question,  a  captain  walked 
in  where  Verney  was  sitting  at  his  headquarters,  and 
presented  to  him  his  resignation.  The  Politician  im- 
mediately asked  the  captain  whether  he  was  in  any  way 
dissatisfied  with  his,  Verney's  management,  or  what  other 
reason  he  had  for  resigning.  While  the  young  fellov 
was  answering,  Verney  recollected  that  the  captain's 
brother,  who  held  a  government  position,  had  failed  to 
secure  a  promotion  which  he  had  desired  and  that  the 
captain  himself  some  time  before  had  been  disappointed 
in  not  receiving  some  business  from  a  semi-political 
source,  which  he  had  expected.  Recognizing  at  once 
by  this  token  the  kind  of  material  he  was  dealing  with, 
and  determined  not  to  lose  the  man's  services,  which  had 
been  valuable  to  the  young  leader,  Ellis  did  not  waste 
any  time  in  urging  the  captain  to  remain  in  his  position 
for  the  reason  that  it  was  his  duty,  or  on  philanthropic 
grounds.  He  continued  sharpening  his  pencil,  a  process 
interrupted  for  a  moment  by  the  captain's  entrance,  and 
fixing  the  malcontent  with  a  steady  blue  gaze,  remarked 
with  careful  casualness : 

"  I  wonder  if  you  've  considered  the  fact  that  if  some 
plans  which  are  being  formed  are  successful,  there  will 
be  next  year  in  the  Executive  Chamber  a  Governor  whose 
attitude  toward  the  active  members  of  the  organization 
will  be  different  from  that  of  the  present  Governor? 
You  have  worked  long  and  hard  as  captain ;  I  would  n't 

[781 


Politics  and  Letters 

give  up  now  if  I  were  you,  but  hang  on  a  while  longer; 
go  through  this  next  campaign  and  see  what  happens." 

He  ended  his  remarks  with  one  of  the  true  Verney 
smiles,  which  at  the  instant  of  their  inception  made  all 
men  his.  Whereupon  the  captain,  smiling  too,  thought- 
fully tore  up  his  resignation ;  and  Verney  said,  "  Come 
on  out  and  have  a  drink." 

And  that  was  all  there  was  to  that. 

But  the  characteristic  that  most  fitted  Ellis  to  be  what 
he  was,  a  politician  of  rapidly  growing  importance,  was 
simply  his  stupendous  capacity  for  hard  work.  When, 
after  two  years  of  ceaseless  activity  as  captain  of  his 
little  District,  he  was  made  successively  a  member  of 
the  New  York  County  Committee,  a  member  of  the 
Legislature,  and  finally  leader  of  his  Assembly  District, 
he  became  known  throughout  New  York  City  and  influ- 
ential in  his  party  throughout  the  State.  That  same 
remarkable  energy  and  thoroughness,  and  that  infinite 
capacity  for  taking  pains  which  had  characterized  his 
conduct  as  captain  of  his  little  District,  characterized  his 
administration  of  the  succeeding  offices  he  filled.  As 
this  spirit  inspired  him  then  to  become  personally 
acquainted  with  each  one  of  the  five  or  six  hundred  voters 
the  little  District  contained,  so  that  he  might  feel  assured 
he  knew  exactly  what  each  one  of  them  would  do  and 
how  he  was  going  to  vote  (which  invariably  resulted  in 
his  turning  out  the  largest  registration  and  the  largest 
vote  in  proportion  to  the  size  of  his  District  at  election 
times),  it  inspired  him  later  at  Albany,  when  he  was 
made  assemblyman,  in  his  work  of  getting  bills  he  ap- 

[79] 


The  Politician 

proved  of  passed.  He  worked  on  them  to  the  limit  of 
his  strength,  considering  nothing  too  much  trouble  to 
do  that  would  help  in  any  way,  and  forced  himself  to 
talk  on  the  floor,  although  by  a  contradiction  in  his 
character  and  in  spite  of  his  undoubted  ability  in  speak- 
ing, he  was  shy  about  being  the  centre  of  attention.  He 
had  won  recognition  from  the  chair  and  from  other 
assemblymen,  time  and  again,  where  few  men  much  older 
than  he  had  been  able  to  do  so. 

It  was  this  aptitude  for  hard  work  too,  combined  with 
his  great  personal  charm,  tact,  and  brains,  which  with 
each  year  of  office  increased  the  scope  of  his  activities ; 
and  having  signalized  his  first  year  in  the  House  by  the 
introduction  of  an  unusual  number  of  important  bills, 
he  grew  with  the  succeeding  years  to  be  regarded  as 
one  of  its  strong  men,  and  was  always  appointed  to  the 
important  committees ;  and  in  his  fourth  and  last  year, 
although  the  youngest  member,  he  became  not  only  one 
of  the  big  men  of  the  Assembly,  but  one  of  the  first  four 
or  five  in  it.  He  had  been,  in  short,  as  a  result  of  the 
hardest  and  most  conscientious  kind  of  work,  successful 
so  far  as  he  had  gone. 

Now,  even  the  strongest  man,  and  Ellis  was  strong, 
cannot  use  his  strength  to  capacity  limits  day  in  and 
day  out  without  feeling  it  a  little ;  and  the  hardest  thing 
the  young  man  had  to  bear  in  this  busy,  complicated, 
successful  life  of  his  was  the  reckoning  day  that  faced 
him  at  intervals,  when  a  mild  form  of  nervous  break- 
down, compelled  him  to  doff  his  armor  for  a  while  and 
give  himself  up  to  the  heart-wearying  inaction  which 

[80] 


Politics  and  Letters 

the  doctor  decreed  as  the  only  way  to  get  well  again. 
Loss  of  sleep,  necessitated  by  his  efforts  to  pay  attention 
to  his  law  business  and  his  political  interests  too,  was 
the  chief  cause  of  his  disorder,  augmented  not  a  little 
by  the  number  of  cigars  he  smoked  and  the  amount  of 
alcoholic  stimulant  he  found  it  necessary  to  take  as  a 
substitute  for  sleep. 

In  commenting  upon  this  state  of  affairs,  his  uncle 
Richmond,  who  was  a  bachelor  of  forty-eight,  and  who 
thought  the  sun,  moon,  and  stars  revolved  about  his 
nephew  Verney,  had  often  asked  him  why  he  worked  so 
hard  and  followed  everything  out  to  such  minute  detail,, 
vouchsafing  it  as  his  opinion  that  every  one  else  loafed 
more  or  less,  and  that  it  was  foolish  for  Verney  not  ta 
do  the  same,  and  Ellis  had  replied :  "  Because  if  I  have 
anything  to  accomplish  I  will  not  take  any  chances 
with  it.  To  gain  my  end  I  must  try  every  possible 
expedient,  and  I  must  attend  to  every  detail  I  can  think 
of,  however  unimportant  it  may  seem,  and  experience 
has  proved  to  me  that  the  policy  never  fails  to  pay." 

Verney  had  been  in  New  York  just  a  week  when  he 
received  a  letter  from  Chicago  addressed  in  a  feminine 
hand  which  he  had  never  seen  before  but  knew  at  once. 
Of  course  it  was  Miss  Rand  writing  to  thank  him  for 
the  promised  copy  of  "  Bacon's  Essays,"  which  he  had 
sent  her  immediately  upon  his  return  to  his  own  city. 
It  was  only  proper  that  she  should  do  so ;  yet  he  opened 
the  envelope  which  a  club  servant  handed  him  —  he  was 
lunching  that  day  at  the  Princeton  Club  —  with  a  feel- 
ing almost  impatient  that  his  little  courtesy  should  have 
6  [81] 


The  Politician 

put  her  to  the  trouble  of  a  formal  acknowledgment. 
He  would  almost  have  expected  Harriet  Rand  to  regard 
her  thanks  as  a  thing  understood  and  to  accept  the  in- 
considerable gift  in  silence.  But  when  he  had  read  the 
letter  he  was  glad  that  she  had  allowed  the  conventions 
to  rule  her  after  all.  It  was  an  interesting  letter, 
chiefly  on  the  subject  of  the  reading  she  had  done 
recently ;  and  her  opinion  of  the  essays  was  a  thing  of 
joy  to  Verney.  Almost  every  other  girl  he  knew  would 
have  raved  about  each  separate  one  as  a  matter  of  duty, 
with  little  discrimination ;  but  Miss  Rand  had  dared  to 
be  critical,  even  though  she  knew  the  high  regard  in 
which  he  held  them  himself,  and  had  frankly  admitted 
that  she  found  them  difficult  to  understand.  She  wrote : 

"  I  must  confess  that  although  I  very  much  like  your  friend 
Francis  Bacon  and  am  deeply  in  your  debt  for  introducing  him 
to  me,  I  found  him  at  times  a  little  difficult  to  grasp;  that  is, 
at  once.  This  one  emanation  of  his  intellect,  written,  as  he  says  in 
the  preface,  '  in  his  leisure  moments,'  has  commanded  the  whole 
of  mine  in  appreciating  it.  But  I  do  not  lay  this  up  against 
him,  for  I  always  en j  oy  most  the  nut  that 's  hardest  to  crack. 
Does  that  sound  like  the  epigrammatical  gentleman  himself?  Or 
do  I  flatter  myself?  But  my  mind  is  a  veritable  sponge  for  ab- 
sorbing the  style  of  the  different  authors  I  read.  If  it  happens 
to  be  Ibsen,  my  conversation  is  terse  and  bloodless  for  days;  if 
the  dear  Jane  Austen,  I  find  myself  garrulous  beyond  belief! 
Wouldn't  you  hate  to  meet  me  just  after  a  dose  of  Henry 
James?  But  to  return  to  His  Lordship.  I  like  the  essay  en- 
titled '  Of  Truth '  and  the  one  on  '  Great  Place '  and  the  ones  on 
•Ambition'  and  'Honor  and  Reputation';  but  the  one  I  par- 
ticularly dote  upon  is  'Friendship.'  That  I  abhor  and  detest 
and  indignantly  refute  the  ones  on  'Love'  and  on  'Marriage' 
goes  without  saying.  You  could  hardly  expect  me  to  attach  the 
seal  of  my  approval  to  such  abominable  cynicisms  —  now,  could 


Politics  and  Letters 

you?  What  a  cross  wife  he  must  have  had,  to  inspire  such 
misogynic  utterances!  And  how  terribly  selfish  of  her  to  in- 
dulge her  bad  temper!  If  she  had  had  a  true  sense  of  her 
responsibilities  he  would  never  have  been  able  to  visit  his  dis- 
pleasure over  her  shortcomings  upon  the  innocent  heads  of  all 
womankind ! " 

Verney  smiled  as  he  read  that,  and  turning  over  the 
page,  saw  with  pleasure  that  the  letter  was  a  long  one. 
After  further  comment  on  the  book  and  on  other  reading 
she  had  done,  she  took  up  another  matter,  her  receipt 
of  a  picture  from  him  —  his  photograph.  This  gift 
had  followed  "  Bacon's  Essays  "  very  shortly  as  a  result 
of  a  little  passage  at  arms  which  occurred  the  evening 
he  had  dined  at  Mrs.  Cumloch's,  when  that  lady  had 
shown  her  friends,  in  a  spirit  of  amusement,  a  picture  of 
Harriet  which  had  appeared  in  the  "  .society  column  "  of 
a  newspaper.  Verney  had  appropriated  it  at  once,  as 
much  perhaps  to  tease  the  girl  as  for  anything  else,  and 
though  much  importuned  by  Harriet,  had  refused  to 
restore  it.  To  justify  which  rather  doubtful  conduct 
he  had  sent  her  his  in  fair  exchange.  Verney  grinned 
appreciatively  though  a  trifle  sheepishly  at  Miss  Rand's 
comment  upon  his  arbitrary  and  novel  method  of  mak- 
ing restitution.  She  went  on  to  say : 

"Thanks  vastly  for  the  picture;  it's  a  counterfeit  presentment 
of  you,  of  course;  but  counterfeit  or  not,  I  shall  cherish  it, 
though  it  is  not  at  all  a  proper  equivalent  for  the  picture  you 
purloined.  You  know  very  well  that  a  handsome  photograph  is 
not  a  fair  exchange  for  a  newspaper  picture.  But  how  exactly 
like  you  just  to  send  it  without  a  word!  So  very  modest  and 
casual-like!  As  if  you  were  an  agent  trying  to  introduce  a  new 
brand  of  pickles!  No  advertising  matter  or  testimonials  with 

[831 


The  Politician 

our  samples!     They  speak  for  themselves!    You  wouldn't  have 
told  me  it  was  coming  for  worlds,  would  you?  " 

Verney  had  to  laugh  at  this.  What  acumen,  what 
penetration  the  girl  showed,  anyway!  How  accurately 
she  had  divined  his  reason  for  making  as  little  as  possi- 
ble of  the  matter,  his  fear  that  he  might  be  accused  of 
vanity !  But  how  else  should  he  have  done  it,  for 
Heaven's  sake  ?  he  wondered.  Did  she  think  he  'd  send 
it  to  her  in  a  gilt  frame  with  "  yours  ever  "  on  it,  like 
any  schoolboy?  He  rather  thought  not;  a  grown  man 
did  things  like  that  without  shouting  about  it.  And 
yet  for  all  that,  the  Verney  who  had  stolen  the  picture 
of  Harriet  in  the  first  place  was  not  so  much  like  a 
grown  man  as  he  fancied  he  was,  but  much  more  like 
the  schoolboy  he  had  repudiated!  There  was  a  boyish- 
ness about  Vernor  Ellis  that  many  years  and  much  sor- 
row would  have  a  hard  time  to  conquer. 

In  summing  up  her  thanks  for  both  gifts,  Harriet 
said : 

M I  think,  on  the  whole,  that  of  the  two  books  you  sent  me  — 
the  one  bound  in  Russia  calf  and  the  one  without  any  binding, 
Bacon's  Essays  and  the  picture  of  yourself, —  I  prefer  the  book 
that  is  not  yet  finished,  the  leaves  of  which  are  still  uncut,  its 
story  still  to  write,  and  the  title  of  which  is  '  James  Vernor  Ellis, 
Politician.'  Am  I  not  right?  Isn't  politics  the  noblest  career 
open  to  man,  and  isn't  the  man  who  is  succeeding  in  that  career 
most  to  be  envied?  But  I  see  that  I  am  thrusting  you  upon  a 
pedestal  without  even  so  much  as  a  by-your-leave !  Do  you  like 
it?  Or  do  pedestals  bore  you?" 

Having  reached  which  satisfactory  confession  —  the 
"very  frankness  of  which  prevented  Verney  from  misin- 

[84] 


Politics  and  Letters 

terpreting  it  in  any  way,  frankness  being*  the  essence  of 
friendship, —  she  closed  with  a  remark  to  the  effect  that 
she  and  her  aunt  thought  of  going  on  to  New  York  for 
a  while  before  the  summer  was  over  to  do  some  shopping 
and  see  some  people  they  knew;  and  in  ending  she  was 
his  "  very  sincere  friend." 

Verney  liked  the  letter,  he  liked  it  a  great  deal,  in 
fact  he  hardly  remembered  ever  having  received  a  letter 
from  a  girl  that  pleased  him  more;  and  inspired  by  this 
conviction  he  betook  himself  at  once  to  a  writing-room, 
and  dashed  off  a  note  in  reply.  He  said : 

"  My  very  kind  friend,  you  would  spoil  me  by  what  you  say  to 
me  if  I  did  not  know  you  laughed  a  little  in  that  kind  way  of 
yours  as  you  said  it,  and  I  should  ask  you  not  to  put  me  on  a 
pedestal  if  I  did  not  know  that  you  had  no  intention  of  putting  me 
there.  There  are  heroes  in  politics,  for  in  that  arena  those  who 
love  the  bright  face  of  danger  have  as  big  a  chance  and  take  as 
many  risks  as  sailor  or  soldier.  But  I  'm  not  one  of  them ;  I  'm 
only  a  worker.  Yet  I  say  '  only '  with  pride,  for  '  I  love  the  dust 
the  heroes  raise  in  striving,'  and  of  course  there's  always  the 
possibility  that  I  may  strive  hard  enough  to  raise  some  myself  some 
day.  But  I  don't  think  I  'd  like  to  be  on  a  pedestal  even  if  I 
could.  It  might  be  awfully  lonely,  I  think,  up  so  high  —  unless 
of  course  I  could  persuade  somebody  awfully  nice  to  come  up 
there  with  me !  It 's  bully  that  you  're  coming  to  New  York  for 
a  while!  Hurry  up  and  come!  Bacon  is  a  good  fellow,  isn't  he? 
I  was  as  sure  when  I  sent  him  to  you  that  you  and  he  would 
compare  notes  favorably  on  this  and  that,  as  that  you  would 
disagree  vitally  on  the  subjects  you  mention.  Naturally  you 
could  n't  swallow  his  '  love  and  marriage ' ;  you  would  n't  be  as 
human  and  likeable  as  you  are  if  you  could.  Do  you  mind  my 
saying  that  your  letter  as  a  commentary  on  what  you  have  read 
is  a  wonder?  " 

"  Faithfully, 

"JAMES  VEHNOR  ELLIS." 

[85] 


The  Politician 

Which,  as  a  letter  to  a  young  and  attractive  member 
of  the  other  sex,  was  about  as  discreet  as  Verney  ever 
was.  He  never  chose  his  words  or  stayed  the  warmth 
of  impulse  for  any  fear  that  more  significance  would 
be  attached  to  them  than  he  intended.  He  complimented 
womankind,  whether  unduly  or  not  they  alone  could  tell 
—  for  Verney  was  never  enlightened  on  the  subject  if 
they  could  help  it, —  by  assuming  that  they  were  able 
to  keep  as  heart-whole  as  he,  and  by  feeling  free  to 
express  his  admiration  or  interest  or  friendship,  just  as 
you  like  to  call  it,  without  danger  of  misinterpretation. 
In  a  singularly  ingenuous  and  joyous  way  he  took  it  for 
granted  that  their  intelligence  was  equal  to  the  task  of 
discerning  at  once  that  his  interest  in  each  particular 
case  was  the  interest  of  a  man  who  believed  that  the  more 
charming  women  a  man  knew  the  better  off  he  was,  and 
who  made  no  secret  of  the  fact  that  he  was  fortunate 
enough  to  know  a  great  many.  But  in  the  question 
whether  he  over-complimented  them  or  not  lay  the  possi- 
ble weak  spot  in  this  otherwise  admirable  attitude,  an 
attitude  in  which  he  should  really  have  been  quite  justi- 
fied, if  its  success  had  not  been  dependent  upon  that  most 
variable  and  uncertain  of  qualities,  a  woman's  ability  to 
remain  impersonal  at  will. 

But  while  it  was  to  some  extent  due  to  his  under- 
rating the  susceptibility  of  woman  and  his  own  powers 
of  pleasing,  one  other  factor  that  figured  largely  in 
Verney's  sense  of  freedom  from  responsibility  in  this 
regard  and  had  kept  him  up  to  the  present  time  un- 
scathed by  the  fires  of  love,  was  his  resolve  taken  some 

[86] 


Politics  and  Letters 

seven  years  previously  to  abandon  all  thoughts  of  mar- 
riage. This  he  had  done  in  order  that  he  might  pursue 
his  work  in  politics  with  singleness  of  purpose,  and  he 
believed  that  course  necessary  for  many  reasons.  Con- 
sidering the  question  of  marriage  for  a  man  engaged  in 
politics  from  the  practical  point  of  view  of  whether  or 
not  it  was  to  the  man's  advantage  to  marry,  Verney  was 
of  the  opinion  that  it  was  not. 

Setting  aside  the  risk  a  man  ran  in  getting  a  wife 
who  would  not  or  could  not  help,  who  was  perhaps  too 
selfish  to  interest  herself  in  her  husband's  work  or  too 
much  of  an  invalid  to  be  able  to  do  so,  he  thought  the 
assistance  a  woman  might  give  in  the  way  of  social 
entertaining,  or  financially,  if  she  were  rich,  was  more 
than  counterbalanced  by  the  obligation  any  right-minded 
man  would  be  under  to  spend  as  much  of  his  time  as  he 
could  at  home ;  for  in  Verney's  estimation  a  man  engaged 
in  politics  has  no  time  to  spend  at  home !  Then,  again, 
he  thought  that  the  social  side  of  a  political  career  did 
not  count  for  as  much  as  it  was  supposed  to  count,  that 
it  was  not,  in  short,  a  necessity.  While  it  might  figure 
largely  in  the  case  of  a  man  who  had  reached  the  top 
of  the  political  ladder,  the  young  politician  thought  it 
figured  only  microscopically  in  the  case  of  a  man  like 
himself,  who  was  just  beginning  his  career.  The  po- 
litical game  he  felt,  anyway,  was  difficult  and  uncertain 
enough  without  mixing  up  with  the  social  game,  and  he 
believed  that  oftentimes  politics  was  as  much  the  means 
of  advancing  a  woman  in  society  as  society  was  the 
means  of  advancing  a  man  in  politics. 

[87] 


The  Politician 

Then,  too,  in  his  own  case,  if  his  wife  were  not  rich 
and  the  whole  burden  of  supplying  her  wants  would  rest 
upon  his  shoulders,  he  did  not  feel  equal  to  the  task; 
not,  that  is,  if  he  were  to  spend  part  of  his  time  in  poli- 
tics, where  he  knew  he  would  have  to  spend  money  rather 
than  make  it.  Girls  wanted  so  much  nowadays,  it  took 
all  a  man's  time  in  his  opinion  to  support  them  in  luxury, 
except  of  course  the  happy  mortal  who  was  born  rich  — 
and  Verney  was  not  the  kind  of  man  to  want  to  support 
his  wife  in  any  other  way !  It  was  to  him  as  if  he  said : 
"  To  marry,  caring  as  I  do  for  politics,  would  be  like 
committing  bigamy.  It  would  be  as  wrong,  for  if  I 
did  not  abandon  either  interest  I  could  give  only  half  a 
heart  to  each." 

It  was  that  very  ambition  to  be  just  and  fair  that 
convinced  the  young  man  that  marriage  was  not  for  him, 
since  he  could  accomplish  that  end  only  by  giving  up 
his  beloved  work;  for  the  idea  of  asking  a  woman  to 
sacrifice  her  rights  to  her  husband's  duty  and  society 
that  he  might  gratify  his  ambitions  appeared  to  him  as 
beyond  the  realm  of  things  possible.  So  that  his  reso- 
lution to  remain  single  was  to  his  mind  more  a  matter 
of  necessity  than  choice.  His  friend  Ordway's  experi- 
ence had  made  it  clear  to  him,  too,  that  the  fact  that  a 
man  had  money  did  not  alter  the  case,  did  not,  in  other 
words,  affect  the  problem  of  his  neglecting  his  wife  if  he 
remained  in  politics.  The  young  man  was  married,  he 
was  in  politics,  and  he  was  wealthy ;  yet  though  his  means 
prevented  his  wife,  a  very  beautiful  and  intelligent  girl, 
from  actually  coming  to  want,  she  was  nevertheless 

[88] 


Politics  and  Letters 

neglected,  for  she  was  left  almost  constantly  to  herself 
owing  to  the  demands  made  upon  her  husband's  time  by 
his  public  life. 

This  was  true  to  such  an  extent,  indeed,  that  it  had 
resulted  in  driving  her  to  the  practice  of  going  about 
to  the  theatre  and  to  dinners  and  dances  with  other  men. 
They  were,  to  be  sure,  usually  young  men  whom  she  had 
known  before  her  marriage,  and  she  was  able  to  explain 
the  thing  sufficiently  to  her  friends  by  laughing  remarks 
to  the  effect  that  her  husband  "  was  so  busy,  so  devoted 
to  politics,"  that  she  hardly  "  saw  anything  of  him  " ; 
but  it  was  for  all  that  a  dangerous  practice  and  a  state 
of  affairs  that  was  not  at  all  fair  or  just  to  her.  The 
fact  that  she  did  not  realize  the  pathos  of  her  position, 
her  loss  of  what  was  hers  by  right,  her  husband's  time 
and  society,  but  comforted  herself  by  rejoicing  in  his 
prominence  and  success  and  in  priding  herself  upon 
knowing  as  much  about  politics  as  he,  holding  up  Eng- 
lish wives  as  a  model  in  this  respect  for  their  American 
sisters  to  copy,  did  not  make  it  any  the  less  true  that 
she  was  a  neglected  wife.  And  Verney  realized  this, 
had  plenty  of  opportunity  to  realize  it,  knowing  the 
Ordways  as  well  as  he  did.  It  was,  indeed,  before  him 
as  an  example  almost  every  day  of  his  life,  for  he  saw 
a  great  deal  of  his  friend,  and  engaged  as  they  often 
were  in  the  same  work,  was  in  a  position  to  know  just 
how  little  time  he  was  able  to  spend  at  home.  And  then 
—  and  this  was  the  best  proof  of  all  —  he  had  himself 
helped  Agnes  Ordway  to  pass  some  of  those  dull  even- 
ings when  Oliver  was  away. 

[89] 


The  Politician 

If  this  state  of  things  could  exist,  if  his  absorption 
in  politics  made  it  impossible  for  a  man  to  give  a  proper 
amount  of  his  time  to  his  wife  when  the  man  in  question 
was  relieved  of  the  necessity  of  providing  for  her, 
how  much  more  likely  was  it  to  exist  in  the  case  of  a 
man  who  was  not  relieved  of  that  necessity,  who  had  to 
stock  a  larder  and  pay  the  month's  rent?  It  was  not 
only  likely  that  it  should  exist,  but  it  was  inevitable, 
and  Verney's  second  older  brother,  Benjamin,  illustrated 
the  fact  admirably.  He  was  headmaster  of  a  leading 
boys'  school  in  Connecticut,  with  a  small  salary  and  five 
children ;  and  when  Verney  visited  him,  the  engrossing 
nature  of  domestic  responsibility  never  failed  to  come 
home  to  Verney  with  its  full  force.  There  were  so 
many,  many  things  that  Benjamin  had  to  do!  He 
had  so  little  time  to  himself !  Why,  as  long  as  Verney 
could  remember,  his  brother  had  been  trying  to  finish 
a  text-book  he  had  begun  to  compile  the  year  of  his 
marriage  —  ten  years  ago, —  and  had  not  finished  yet ! 
For  such  a  man  to  have  thought  of  entering  politics, 
unless  he  deserted  wife  and  children,  was  absurd.  And 
this  proof  of  the  incompatibility  of  domestic  life  with  a 
career  of  the  kind,  even  more  than  that  which  the  ex- 
perience of  his  friend  Ordway  supplied,  was  an  object 
lesson  to  Verney ;  for  Verney,  like  his  brother,  was  not 
a  rich  man. 

With  such  strong  evidence  before  him  that  human 
responsibility  is  a  curb  to  ambition,  was  it  strange  that 
Ellis  at  so  early  an  age  had  waved  a  gay  farewell  to 
Matrimony  beckoning  down  the  road?  And  was  it 

[90] 


Politics  and  Letters 

strange  that  a  feeling  of  freedom  from  the  obligation 
to  hold  himself  to  account  for  word  and  deed  which 
is  usually  felt  toward  women  by  a  man  of  principle 
should  have  resulted  from  that  act?  Not  that  he 
thought  any  the  less  of  the  blessings  of  matrimony  or 
decried  it  in  its  proper  place,  but  he  could  not  help  see- 
ing its  impracticability  in  politics,  where  a  man  must 
give  all  his  time,  every  breathing  moment  that  he  is 
awake,  to  his  work ;  and  though  he  did  not  quite  agree 
with  the  maxim  that  "  a  young  man  married  is  a  young 
man  marred,"  he  had  come  to  regard  the  blissful  state 
with  such  disfavor  where  a  politician  is  concerned,  that 
whenever  any  of  the  young  captains  in  his  district  took 
unto  himself  a  wife,  their  leader  was  wont  to  shake  his 
head  gloomily  and  regard  that  man  as  lost,  so  far  as 
getting  more  work  out  of  him  went.  ; 

If  Harriet  Rand  was  to  be  one  of  those  instances, 
which  doubtless  had  occurred  in  Verney's  experience, 
when  his  confidence  in  the  perspicacity  of  women  had 
been  at  fault,  what  a  pity  it  was  that  some  clear-sighted 
arbiter  who  knew  the  rules  of  the  game  could  not  have 
explained  to  her  that  afternoon  two  days  later  in  Lake 
Forest,  as  she  broke  the  seal  of  the  letter  with  "  Princeton 
Club  "  on  it  in  orange  lettering,  just  how  things  stood 
with  the  young  man  and  of  his  happy  ignorance  of  his 
responsibility  in  such  matters,  while  it  was  yet  time! 
Or  what  a  pity  it  was  that  she  had  missed  the  significance 
of  Verney's  gift  to  her  of  "  Bacon's  Essays,"  that  she 
should  have  failed  to  recognize  the  unconscious  warn- 
ing contained  in  the  young  politician's  admiration  of 

[91] 


The  Politician 

the  great  philosopher  whose  writings  all  teach  his  belief 
in  the  age-old  argument  that  matrimony  is  an  enemy 
to  art,  as  applied  to  every  kind  of  public  life ! 

But  nobody  did  explain,  and  the  warning  embodied 
in  Verney's  gift  had  passed  by  her  unread,  so  that  there 
was  no  disturbing  element  to  interfere  with  her  enjoy- 
ment of  his  letter.  She  read  it  through  once  slowly,  and 
then  again,  standing  where  the  maid  who  had  brought 
it  to  her  found  her  in  the  middle  of  her  aunt's  Italian 
garden,  where  she  had  been  amusing  herself  trimming 
a  boxwood  hedge  under  the  direction  of  the  gardener. 
Shears  in  hand,  garden  hat  fallen  to  her  shoulders  and 
held  only  by  its  strings,  she  walked  toward  the  house  — 
boxwood  hedge  and  waiting  gardener  forgotten  —  to 
seek  in  her  room  a  pigeon-hole  in  a  rosewood  desk  which 
might  be  immediately  consecrated  to  the  guardianship 
of  the  missive  in  her  hand  and  of  any  others  like  it  that 
might  come  her  way.  .  .  .  What  a  wonderful  thing 
it  was  to  know  a  man  in  public  life,  to  be  friends  with  a 
politician ! 


[92] 


CHAPTER  V 

"HEBE  WE  ABE,  COBA!" 

THAT  part  of  June  which  was  left  after  the  con- 
vention and  the  month  following  were  hard 
weeks  for  Verney.  His  primary  fights  at 
former  elections  had  been  noted  for  their  bitterness,  but 
nothing  he  had  done  in  the  past  could  equal  the  energy 
and  singleness  of  purpose  with  which  he  worked  now 
to  convert  the  feeling  of  dissatisfaction  with  Downes's 
administration,  already  beginning  to  gain  ground  in 
New  York  city,  into  a  feeling  in  favor  of  his  friend 
Ordway,  for  Republican  nominee  for  Governor.  His 
law  business  suffered  sadly  these  days,  but  little  by  little, 
inch  by  inch,  by  means  known  only  to  the  expert  poli- 
tician, he  had  succeeded  in  establishing  to  a  certain  de- 
gree the  young  speaker's  name  in  men's  mouths,  had  at 
last  been  able  to  start  the  current  of  party  sentiment 
toward  him.  It  was  slow  work,  though,  and  he  had 
achieved  little  more  than  that  by  the  end  of  July,  when 
an  interesting  political  situation  was  precipitated  by 
Governor  Downes's  announcement  that  he  would  accept 
a  renomination  at  the  hands  of  the  Republican  party  if 
it  were  offered  to  him. 

Whereupon  the  sluggishness,  the  indecision,  the  un- 
certainty which  had  been  characterizing  the  Republican 

[93] 


The  Politician 

party  vanished  like  smoke,  before  the  thrown  gauntlet 
of  this  news,  and  divided  itself  upon  the  instant  into 
two  factions, —  the  men  who  were  for  Downes  and  the 
men  who  were  against  him.  Of  these  factions  one  was 
composed  chiefly  of  the  main  body  of  voters,  the  men 
who  take  no  part  in  political  affairs  except  to  vote ;  and 
the  other  chiefly  of  the  politicians  or  members  of  the 
organization,  the  men  who  are  active  in  politics,  who 
are  responsible  for  the  conduct  of  elections  and  the  po- 
litical machinery. 

It  was  with  the  latter,  of  course,  that  Verney,  as  an 
organization  man  and  because  of  his  personal  prejudice 
against  the  Governor,  identified  himself.  The  reasons 
that  caused  him  and  his  fellow-politicians  to  disagree 
with  the  Downes  supporters  were  based  on  many  grounds. 
It  seemed  to  them  that  those  who  belonged  to  that  fac- 
tion "  leaned  so  far  over  backward,"  as  the  expression 
went,  in  their  desire  to  keep  public  office  free  from  evil 
political  influences  that  they  had  come  to  think  that 
discrimination  in  making  appointments  should  be  made 
against  every  political  recommendation  and  every  man 
who  had  been  active  in  party  affairs,  irrespective  of  his 
ability.  They  believed  also  that  those  men  followed 
blindly  the  sensational  newspaper  clamor  and  the  popular 
wave  of  anti-corporation  feeling  in  which  every  corpora- 
tion was  a  trust  and  every  trust  was  bad,  and  applauded 
every  detail  of  Governor  Downes's  limitations  upon  in- 
surance companies  and  his  regulation  of  the  railroads, 
however  drastic  they  might  be. 

The  politicians  believed,  on  the  other  hand,  that  party 
[94] 


"Here  We  Are,  Cora!" 

service  and  political  recommendation  were  entitled  to  con- 
sideration. They  realized  the  necessity  under  changed 
economic  conditions  of  governmental  regulation  where 
competition  no  longer  existed,  and  of  governmental  regu- 
lation of  public  utility  corporations,  but  they  believed 
that  supervision  might  be  overdone  if,  for  instance,  as 
had  recently  happened,  through  its  means  a  great  rail- 
road could  be  sent  to  the  wall  and  millions  of  people 
inconvenienced  by  the  curtailment  of  its  services.  They 
believed,  in  short,  that  the  State  was  riding  too  fast 
over  untried  roads;  that  it  had  gone  far  enough  in 
radical  experiment ;  that  slower  and  more  cautious  ways 
should  be  taken;  and  that  it  was  wiser  to  wait  before 
giving  further  power  to  commissions  which  had  not  yet 
accomplished  in  a  year,  or  made  any  progress  toward 
accomplishing,  the  reforms  they  had  set  out  to  effect. 
They  feared  also  the  results  of  the  unrestricted  power 
which  this  placed  in  the  hands  of  one  man,  whose  right 
it  was  to  make  the  appointments  to  these  commissions. 

Of  all  these  reasons  for  opposing  Downes's  renomina- 
tion,  however,  the  one  that  appealed  most  important  in 
their  eyes  was  the  Governor's  hostile  attitude  toward  the 
organization  itself.  To  judge  by  that  system  of  his,  so 
approved  by  his  partisans,  of  making  appointments 
which  discriminated  against  party  workers  and  men  ac- 
tive in  politics,  and  his  violent  advocacy  of  the  direct 
system  of  selecting  candidates  for  nomination  which 
every  politician  considered  inimical  to  the  Republican 
organization,  he  seemed  to  believe  that  in  the  destruction 
of  organization  lay  the  only  hope  of  obtaining  civil 

[95] 


The  Politician 

service  reform.  To  Verney,  who  believed  —  whether 
the  majority  of  the  politicians  cherished  similar  ideals  or 
not  —  that  the  way  to  effect  reform  was  by  means  of 
reforming  the  party,  not  by  destroying  its  organization, 
since  in  his  estimation  a  party  government  was  essential 
to  the  welfare  of  the  country,  this  attitude  of  Downes 
was  alone  reason  enough  for  fighting  against  his  renom- 
ination. 

From  the  moment  Downes's  willingness  to  run  again 
for  Governor  became  known,  Verney's  desire  that  Oliver 
Ordway,  who  was  a  member  of  the  organization  and  an 
enthusiastic  party  worker,  should  have  the  nomination, 
increased  tenfold.  The  news  had  also  the  effect  of  ren- 
dering his  self-appointed  task  of  spreading  his  friend's 
cause  much  easier,  and  he  found  less  difficulty  in  winning 
men  over  to  his  way  of  thinking  with  every  twenty-four 
hours  that  passed  after  it  had  come  out  in  the  papers. 

About  the  middle  of  August,  however,  the  "  Autocrat 
of  Oyster  Bay,"  as  the  President  had  been  termed  at 
that  time  by  one  of  his  critics,  put  a  heavy  spoke  in 
Ellis's  wheel  by  sending  forth  the  dictum  after  consulta- 
tion with  Republican  party  leaders  at  Sagamore  Hill, 
that  Downes  must  be  the  party's  nominee  for  Governor. 
No  matter  how  much  the  organization  men  might  resent 
this  arbitrary  interference  on  the  part  of  the  President, 
they  could  not  help  realizing  that  it  would  have  its  in- 
fluence on  the  voters  of  the  State  at  large,  who,  they 
said,  believed  blindly  in  the  theory  that  the  King  could 
do  no  wrong,  and  blew  hot  or  cold  as  the  case  might  be, 
at  the  mere  lifting  of  the  royal  eyebrow. 

[96]  * 


"Here  We  Are,  Cora!" 

These  were  busy  times  for  them,  the  organization 
leaders;  for  while  they  had  only  to  unite  their  forces 
behind  one  man  in  order  to  defeat  Mr.  Downes,  the 
character  of  that  man  was  of  the  utmost  importance  if 
they  were  to  satisfy  not  only  their  own  ideas  of  the  re- 
quirements of  a  candidate  for  such  high  office,  but  to 
placate  as  well  public  opinion  and  the  President's. 
They  were  as  sincere  in  their  wish  to  secure  a  man  of 
principle  and  ability  —  insisting  upon  only  one  stipula- 
tion in  their  choice,  that  he  should  not  be  prejudiced 
against  the  organization  —  as  they  were  in  their  wish 
not  to  antagonize  the  voters  at  large,  which  the  nomina- 
tion of  an  incompetent  or  unknown  man  must  surely  do. 
In  this  dilemma  not  a  few  of  them  caught  gladly  at 
Ellis's  suggestion  that  Speaker  Ordway  should  be  the 
candidate  for  the  nomination  decided  upon  to  oppose 
Downes,  since  his  integrity  and  ability  was  a  matter  of 
general  knowledge,  while  he  was  at  the  same  time  a  loyal 
organization  man ;  but  the  ma j  ority  were  still  in  doubt. 

"  And  yet,"  as  Verney  told  the  young  Speaker  con- 
fidently toward  the  end  of  the  month,  "  I  think  we  '11 
convince  them  all  by  the  time  the  convention  is  actually 
on." 

Ordway  smiled  a  little  at  his  friend's  positive  tone. 

"  You  're  an  optimist,  Verney,"  he  said,  "  but  I  'm 
sure  I  hope  you  're  right.  I  think  New  York  's  had  a 
little  too  much  of  Mr.  Downes,  and  if  the  State  needs 
me,  if  our  friends  think  I  'm  the  right  man  to  meet  the 
needs  of  the  situation,  I  shall  be  proud  to  make  the  best 
fight  I  can  against  him  to  get  the  nomination.  But 
7  [97] 


The  Politician 

I  don't  believe,  I  can't  think  it 's  going  that  way.  I  've 
a  kind  of  notion  the  Egotist  [he  meant  the  Governor] 
will  get  it  again."  He  turned  his  dark  intellectual 
face  and  his  dreamer's  eyes  toward  his  friend.  "  It 's 
not  probable,  at  least  it  does  n't  sound  likely  to  me  that 
a  man  as  young  as  I  am,  only  thirty-four  years  old, 
should  be  Governor."  He  made  the  statement  seriously, 
for  in  the  eyes  of  as  stanch  a  Republican  as  he  was,  re- 
ceiving the  nomination  was  synonymous  with  being 
elected.  But  you  could  n't  discourage  Verney  that  way. 

"  Why  not?  "  he  said  hotly.  "  Age  has  n't  anything 
to  do  with  it.  Why,  Patrick  Henry  was  a  senator  at 
twenty-nine, —  a  few  months  younger  than  the  age  re- 
quired by  the  Constitution.  William  Pitt  was  only 
twenty-five  when  he  was  prime  minister  of  England; 
and  think  of  Alexander  Hamilton  and  LaFayette! 
They  were  statesmen  and  young  men  too !  There  's  no 
reason  why  you  should  n't  be  anything  you  like,  as  far 
as  age  goes !  " 

And  he  was  right  in  a  way ;  there  was  no  real  reason 
why  Oliver  Ordway  should  not  have  made  an  excellent 
governor.  He  was  young,  of  course,  but  in  every  other 
way  eminently  qualified.  He  had  force  of  character, 
brains,  and  intellect,  or  he  would  not  have  risen  to  be 
what  he  was,  Speaker  of  the  House  at  Albany.  He  had 
graduated  with  high  honors  at  one  of  the  leading 
universities  of  the  country,  and  had  been  admitted  to 
the  bar  a  few  years  afterwards.  He  was  also  a  young 
man  of  large  private  fortune,  doubled  by  his  marriage 
to  on<>  ~."  .^c  rich  Misses  Brock  of  his  own  city,  whose 

[98] 


"Here  We  Are,  Cora!' 

inheritance  was  almost  equal  to  his  own.  Thus  en- 
dowed, he  had  been  able  to  give  up  his  law  practice  and 
devote  himself  exclusively  to  a  political  career,  which 
was  one  reason  perhaps  why  he  held  office  so  much  above 
his  friend  Ellis. 

In  other  respects  the  two  young  men  were  much  alike ; 
typical  New  Yorkers,  both  of  them,  about  the  same  age, 
well-born,  fine-looking,  and  ambitious.  The  chief  point 
of  dissimilarity  lay  in  their  circumstances ;  for  while  one 
was  rich,  the  other  only  belonged  to  a  family  which  had 
once  been  rich.  In  character,  too,  the  young  men 
differed  a  little;  for  while  both  were  actuated  by  the 
same  lofty  ideals  and  principles  in  going  into  politics, 
the  older  of  the  two  was  perhaps  more  idealistic  and 
less  practical  than  the  younger.  Ordway  was  neverthe- 
less fully  qualified  to  maintain  an  important  administra- 
tive position ;  for  if  he  was  not  always  practical  himself, 
he  possessed  the  faculty  of  choosing  competent  sub- 
ordinates who  were,  and  to  a  great  degree  the  rare  power 
of  making  them  work  in  harmony. 

With  this  light  on  his  character  and  ability,  it  is  not 
difficult  to  believe  with  Verney  in  Ordway's  fitness  to  be 
Governor  of  New  York  State,  and  to  understand  the 
earnestness  and  complete  absorption  with  which  Ellis 
threw  himself  into  the  business  of  getting  him  the 
Republican  nomination  for  that  office.  Obviously 
Verney  was  a  very  busy  young  man ;  and  it  was  unfortu- 
nate, perhaps,  that  Harriet  Rand,  accompanied  by  her 
aunt,  should  choose  to  arrive  in  New  York  just  at  this 
time,  because  he  would  really  have  liked  to  see  more  of 

[99] 


The  Politician 

her.  Harriet,  however,  was  quite  unaware  of  this 
state  of  affairs,  and  she  and  Mrs.  Cumloch  had  hardly 
been  in  the  Holland  House  long  enough  for  their 
trunks  to  be  unpacked,  before  she  sent  the  young  man 
a  note  telling  him  of  her  arrival,  as  he  had  asked 
her  to  do  whenever  she  came  to  New  York,  in  su- 
preme confidence  that  immediate  sight  of  him  would 
follow.  But  sad,  very  sad  to  relate,  nothing  at  all  came 
of  it.  Verney  Ellis,  working  almost  continually  night 
and  day,  could  not  find  time  even  to  telephone,  and  the 
result  was  that  the  impossible  happened  and  three  whole 
days  passed  without  sight  or  sound  of  him.  This 
was  a  contretemps  most  inexplicable  to  Miss  Rand,  who 
had  been  used  to  having  men  fly  at  the  beckon  of  her 
hand;  and  she  could  not  in  the  least  understand  an  ab- 
sorption in  other  affairs  that  would  not  permit  of  a  ten- 
minute  call. 

Then  at  last  she  saw  him,  but  saw  him  merely,  with 
no  opportunity  to  speak.  In  despair  of  his  coming,  and 
to  show  herself  that  she  was  not  disappointed,  she  ar- 
ranged a  theatre  party  for  the  fourth  evening  of  her 
stay  in  New  York,  composed  of  herself  and  her  aunt,  a 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Chittenden,  friends  of  Mrs.  Cumloch,  and 
a  young  man  who  had  been  Francis  Morton's  room-mate 
at  college  and  who  lived  in  New  York.  His  name  was 
Gerald  Merrick,  and  needless  to  say,  he  was  a  great 
admirer  of  the  Chicago  heiress,  whom  he  had  met  while 
visiting  Francis  several  years  before. 

The  play  was  very  good,  and  Mr.  Merrick  as  enter- 
taining as  he  knew  how  to  be,  and  Harriet  had  almost 

[100] 


"Here  We  Are,  Cora!" 

forgotten  the  extraordinary  behavior  of  Mr.  Ellis,  when 
something  occurred  which  brought  back  to  her  mind 
most  keenly  her  sense  of  his  delinquency.  She  and  the 
other  two  women  in  the  party  were  standing  on  the  steps 
of  the  theatre  after  the  play,  waiting  for  the  men  to  find 
their  carriage,  when  Harriet  observed  not  far  away  from 
her  an  extremely  handsome  and  beautifully  dressed 
woman,  evidently  waiting  as  they  were  for  a  carriage. 
Doubtless  her  escort,  whoever  he  was,  had  gone  down 
into  the  crowd  in  front  of  the  Bijou  to  hasten  the  ar- 
rival of  the  equipage  in  question,  even  as  Mr.  Chit- 
tenden  and  young  Gerald  Merrick  had  done.  There  was 
nothing  at  all  remarkable  about  this  circumstance,  and 
Harriet  was  just  wondering  why  she  speculated  on  the 
matter  at  all,  when  a  good-looking  young  man  with  an 
eagerness  of  manner  that  was  familiar  to  her,  detached 
himself  from  the  crowd  on  the  sidewalk  below  and,  run- 
ning up  to  the  girl  on  the  steps,  said  gayly  and  so  dis- 
tinctly that  Harriet  could  not  help  hearing,  "  Here 
we  are,  Cora  !  " 
It  was  Verney. 


[101] 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  EPISODE  OF  THE  BRACELET 

IT  was  this  incident  that  made  it  difficult  for 
Harriet  to  execute  a  commission  with  which  Mrs. 
Presbey  had  charged  her;  namely,  to  call  at  Cor- 
nelia's mother 's  and  leave  there  a  certain  diamond 
bracelet  belonging  to  Mrs.  Ellis.  Mrs.  Presbey  had 
borrowed  it  on  a  recent  visit  to  New  York  and  had  not 
yet  sent  it  back.  It  was  a  family  heirloom,  and  Mrs. 
Ellis  had  requisitioned  it  from  her  elder  daughter  in 
favor  of  her  youngest,  Carol,  who  was  to  be  "  in- 
troduced "  that  winter.  Carol  had  more  right  to  it,  she 
had  decided,  than  Cornelia,  who,  as  she  justly  said,  had 
managed  to  lose  almost  every  other  heirloom  of  the  kind 
the  family  had  ever  possessed.  Mrs.  Presbey,  after 
borrowing  the  piece  of  jewelry,  was  characteristically 
negligent  about  returning  it;  and  now  that  her  atten- 
tion had  been  called  to  the  fact  that  her  mother  really 
wished  it  returned,  she  hastened  to  send  it  back  by  the 
first  means  which  presented  itself,  which  happened  to 
be  by  making  use  of  her  friend  Harriet  Rand's  trip  to 
New  York  at  that  time.  This  was,  furthermore,  in  her 
opinion,  the  safest  method  that  she  could  use,  for  like 

[102] 


The  Episode  of  the  Bracelet 

most  women  she  was  unwilling  to  trust  the  mails  with 
anything  of  value. 

Miss  Rand  accepted  the  responsibility  without  any 
demur,  since  it  was  Cornelia  who  asked  the  favor  of  her, 
and  promised  to  give  the  bracelet  into  no  hands  but 
Mrs.  Ellis's  own.  She  in  fact  rather  enjoyed  the  idea 
of  going  to  the  house  where  the  Politician  lived,  until 
the  incident  of  the  evening  before  gave  her  such  signal 
proof  of  the  lightness  with  which  her  friend  regarded 
their  friendship.  With  hot  cheeks  she  remembered  the 
curious  glance  with  which  Verney's  handsome  companion 
favored  her  when  he  caught  sight  of  Harriet  and 
raised  his  hat;  nor  could  the  information  revealed  later 
by  Gerald  Merrick,  that  she  was  Mrs.  Willie  Gibbs,  a 
certain  very  fashionable  and  well-known  young  married 
woman,  at  all  lessen  her  sense  that  her  friend  had  failed 
her. 

She  felt  now  that  the  commission  she  had  accepted 
so  light-heartedly  was  one  of  great  difficulty;  for  in 
her  disappointment  that  the  young  man  should  choose 
so  to  ignore  her  presence  in  New  York  in  the  face  of  the 
fact  that  he  had  time  to  go  to  the  theatre  with  someone 
else,  she  had  resolved  that  nothing  should  induce  her 
to  make  any  further  effort  to  see  him,  though  the 
shopping  and  visiting  among  their  friends  which  her 
aunt  had  planned  should  keep  them  never  so  long  in  the 
city.  And  now,  here  was  Cornelia's  old  bracelet  to 
interfere,  necessitating  a  journey  into  the  very  camp 
of  the  enemy  and  compelling  her  to  run  the  chance  of 
meeting  Verney  face  to  face  in  his  own  home !  Never- 

[103] 


The  Politician 

theless  and  in  spite  of  this  feeling  of  reluctance,  before 
very  long  she  did  manage  to  carry  out  the  mission  with 
which  she  had  been  entrusted,  though  she  took  care  to 
go  early  in  the  afternoon,  so  that  she  might  not  en- 
counter Verney,  and  she  told  herself  as  she  went  up  the 
steps  of  that  one  of  the  row  of  brown  stone  fronts  on 
West  Twelfth  Street  which  was  Mrs.  Ellis's,  that  she 
was  very  glad  there  was  no  possible  chance  of  such  a 
contingency.  The  maid  at  the  door  did  not  know 
whether  Mrs.  Ellis  was  at  home  or  not.  She  would  go 
upstairs  and  see,  if  Miss  Rand  —  Harriet  had  given  her 
her  card  —  would  come  in  and  be  seated.  Harriet 
came  in  and  was  shown  through  a  large  front  drawing- 
room  with  cheese-cloth  draped  chandeliers,  closed  blinds, 
and  furniture  still  in  its  summer  garb  of  brown  holland, 
into  a  smaller  one  similarly  conditioned. 

"Mrs.  Ellis  has  only  just  returned  from  Tuxedo," 
explained  the  maid,  "  to  open  the  house,"  and  after 
raising  one  of  the  shades,  she  departed  to  find  out  if  her 
mistress  were  in. 

Harriet  seated  herself  in  one  of  the  big  shapeless 
chairs  in  the  middle  of  the  room  where  a  shaft  of  the 
August  sunlight  streamed  through  the  uncurtained 
window,  and  looked  about  her.  Here,  then,  was  where 
her  friend,  the  Politician  lived, —  or  was  he  so  much 
her  friend?  The  question  in  her  mind  showed  how  far 
the  apparition  of  Mrs.  Gibbs  and  Verney  on  the  steps 
of  the  theatre  the  other  evening  had  gone  toward  shak- 
ing her  faith  in  that  regard.  It  was  not  a  particularly 

[104] 


The  Episode  of  the  Bracelet 

handsome  or  elegant  house,  to  judge  by  what  she  had 
seen  so  far.  Certainly  it  would  not  bear  comparison 
with  the  fresh  magnificence  of  her  aunt's  home  on  the 
Drive  in  Chicago.  It  was  high-ceilinged  and  gloomy, 
like  most  of  the  houses  she  had  seen  in  New  York,  with 
the  dark  tapestry-hung  walls,  velvet  hangings  that  were 
too  well  worn  to  trouble  about  putting  them  away,  and 
heavy  furniture  belonging  to  a  family  mansion  that  had 
been  furnished  two  or  three  decades  ago.  Like  the  re- 
productions of  oil  paintings  on  the  walls,  Aurora  over 
the  marble  mantelpiece  and  the  Sistine  Madonna  across 
the  way,  its  worth  was  unquestioned  though  its  style 
was  not  at  all  in  accord  with  modern  tastes  and  fashions. 
Yet  here  and  there  a  little  carved  stand  or  gilt  table  or 
lamp  of  hammered  brass  gave  evidence  that  later  addi- 
tions had  been  made  to  the  furniture.  Probably  by  the 
fastidious  and  extravagant  Mrs.  Presbey,  whose  ambi- 
tion in  life  was  to  be  up-to-date,  Harriet  thought ;  or 
maybe  by  Miss  Ellis,  who  was  coming  out  that  winter, 
whom  she  did  not  know,  and  in  whose  behalf  she  was 
acting  the  part  of  special  messenger  in  returning  the 
diamond  bracelet. 

"  Hello,"  said  a  voice  unexpectedly ;  and  Harriet,  her 
thoughts  thus  surprisingly  interrupted,  looked  up  and 
beheld  Verney  regarding  her  in  pleased  surprise  from 
the  doorway. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Ellis?  "  she  said  as  composedly 
as  she  could  and  as  coldly,  rising  to  her  feet. 

But  Mr.  Ellis  apparently  did  not  notice  the  coldness. 
[105] 


The  Politician 

"  How  awfully  good  of  you  to  come  and  see  me,"  he 
said,  coming  smilingly  toward  her,  "  when  you  knew  I 
was  too  busy  to  come  and  see  you ! " 

"  I  did  n't !  "  said  Harriet  indignantly,  and  doing  h  r 
best  to  withdraw  the  hand  she  had  foolishly  and  quih 
mechanically  offered  him.  "  I  came  only  to  leave  a 
bracelet  for  Cornelia  —  I  mean  for  your  mother  " — 
she  stammered  rather  confusedly ;  she  was  so  afraid  he 
would  n't  understand  that  her  coming  had  been  obliga- 
tory. "  She  wanted  me  to  leave  it  with  Mrs.  Ellis ! " 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  know,"  said  Verney ;  "  I  've  heard  nothing 
but  that  bracelet  from  mother  and  Carol  ever  since  the 
Baby  [that  was  his  sister's  nickname]  thought  of 
coming  out.  It  was  most  awfully  kind  of  you  to 
bring  it ! " 

But  Harriet  was  not  to  be  conciliated  by  fair  words. 
"  I  would  n't  have  thought  of  coming  now,  though," 
she  said  gravely,  "  if  I  had  had  any  idea  that  I  should 
meet  you ! " 

The  young  man  looked  shocked.  "  Don't,"  he  said, 
"  don't  say  such  things !  It 's  cruel,  when  I  'm  so  glad 
to  see  you  —  and  when  I  am  so  ill,  too,"  he  added. 

"  111  ? "  said  Harriet,  her  resentment  against  him 
arrested  by  this  idea. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  that 's  why  you  find  me  here  in- 
stead of  at  my  office,  and  it 's  all  because  I  have  n't  had 
any  sleep  to  speak  of  for  the  last  six  weeks  or  so." 

"  Really?  "  said  Harriet,  unable  to  keep  the  sympathy 
out  of  her  voice.  "  That 's  bad,  is  n't  it?  " 

"  As  bad  as  bad  can  be ! "  replied  Ellis,  encouraged, 
[106] 


The  Episode  of  the  Bracelet 

"  and  you  never  knew  such  a  clock  as  there  is  in  this 
house !  Why,  if  you  '11  believe  me  —  last  night  it 
struck  every  hour !  " 

Harriet  could  n't  help  laughing,  and  after  that,  of 
course,  it  was  useless  to  keep  up  the  pretence  that  she 
was  displeased  with  him ;  moreover,  as  he  stepped  into 
the  sunlight  and  took  a  chair  near  her,  she  saw  with 
concern  that  he  did  look  ill,  or  exceedingly  tired,  at 
least,  and  remembered  compassionately  his  healthy, 
animated  look  when  she  saw  him  last  June,  with  his  out- 
of-doors  tan  and  his  alert,  vigorous  air. 

"  I  'm  sorry  you  're  not  well,"  she  began  sympathet- 
ically —  but  "  Never  mind  me,"  he  cut  in ;  "  tell  me 
about  yourself.  Tell  me,  in  the  first  place,  why  you 
were  so  cross  with  me  just  now?  " 

Harriet  hesitated.  Should  she  tell  him  or  would  he 
be  unduly  flattered?  However,  she  was  a  truthful, 
candid  soul ;  so  she  took  that  risk  and  confessed  bravely. 

"  Because  I  think  it  was  so  unkind  of  you  not  to  come 
and  see  me  when  I  sent  you  a  note.  You  know  you 
asked  me  to  let  you  know  when  I  came  to  New  York. 
I  thought  we  were  friends,  but  — "  She  stopped  and 
cast  a  very  reproachful  and  attractive  look  at  him  from 
her  Madonna  eyes. 

It  was  Verney's  turn  to  be  sorry ;  in  spite  of  appear- 
ances, he  did  have  a  conscience.  "I  know,"  he  said. 
"  And  you  can't  think  how  badly  I  felt  not  to  be  able 
to  go  right  off.  I  intended  to  —  of  course  —  before 
you  left,  but  I  've  been  too  busy  to  manage  it  these  last 
few  days." 


The  Politician 

Harriet's  eyes  sparkled  warmly.  All  her  indignation 
returned  in  a  flood.  "  Not  too  busy  to  go  to  the 
theatre,"  she  could  n't  help  saying,  though  it  was  the 
last  thing  she  had  meant  to  say. 

Verney  flushed  unhappily.  He  had  been  guilty  he 
knew  of  discourtesy  if  not  of  unfriendliness  in  disre- 
garding that  note,  and  her  knowledge  of  how  he  had 
spent  one  of  the  evenings  in  question,  made  it  impossible 
to  continue  to  plead  lack  of  time  as  an  excuse.  That 
he  had  asked  her  to  let  him  know  when  she  came  to  New 
York,  in  a  moment  of  enthusiasm  and  without  any  idea 
that  she  would  ever  act  upon  the  suggestion,  he  was 
also  aware  did  not  make  him  any  less  guilty,  since  it  ap- 
peared she  had  chosen  to  do  so.  He  was  thoroughly 
ashamed,  for  he  never  intentionally  hurt  people's  feel- 
ings ;  and  although  he  rarely  reaped  the  consequences 
of  his  habit  of  saying  pleasant  things  that  he  meant 
only  while  he  said  them,  he  was  always  repentant  when 
he  did.  In  this  case  he  was  more  than  usually  re- 
pentant, for  he  found  that  he  cared  more  for  Miss 
Rand's  opinion  of  him  than  he  had  supposed,  and  he 
even  discovered  an  unsuspected  stir  at  his  heart  when 
he  met  her  reproachful  brown  eyes. 

"  I  am  more  sorry  than  I  can  say,"  he  said  humbly, 
and  without  attempting  to  explain  the  circumstance 
Harriet  had  mentioned,  knowing,  as  he  did,  that  it  was 
without  explanation.  "  I  have  behaved  very  badly,  I 
know,  and  I  don't  suppose  you  will  ever  forgive  me?  " 

Harriet's  anger  could  hardly  withstand  such  abject 
humility.  Still  it  did  not  vanish  immediately. 

[108J 


The  Episode  of  the  Bracelet 

"  You  don't  deserve  forgiveness,"  she  said  slowly ;  "  I 
hate  people  who  say  what  they  don't  mean !  " 

This  charge  surprised  Verney,  for  while  he  acknowl- 
edged that  he  often  forgot  things  after  saying  them, 
he  did  think  he  meant  them  at  the  time  they  were  said. 

"  But  you  're  mistaken,"  he  said  eagerly,  "  I  did  mean 
it,  when  I  said  it,  I  swear  to  the  Lord  I  did ! " 

The  naivete  of  the  speech  saved  the  day  for  him  by 
again  amusing  Harriet. 

"  You  're  quite  hopeless,"  she  said  laughing.  "  I  can't 
seem  to  make  you  understand  the  enormity  of  your 
offence  at  all.  But  I  '11  forgive  you  just  the  same,  be- 
cause you  're  so  delightfully  dense !  " 

Verney,  who  did  n't  care  why  he  was  forgiven,  as  long 
as  that  beatific  state  was  an  actual  fact,  smiled  de- 
lightedly. "  That  is  most  kind,"  he  said ;  "  and  I  wish 
you  would  go  on  calling  me  names,  it  makes  me  feel 
better  somehow !  " 

"Then  I  shan't  do  it,"  she  said.  "I  don't  want 
you  to  feel  better ;  you  have  n't  felt  worse  long  enough." 
But  her  expression  was  by  no  means  severe,  and  she 
added  kindly,  "  And  now  tell  me  what  it  is  you  've  been 
so  busy  about;  I  want  to  know  how  the  Cause  is 
progressing."  The  spoiled  child  that  is  in  almost  every 
heiress,  that  cannot  help  being  a  part  of  the  nature  of 
every  young  girl  who  has  had  all  the  money  she  wants 
to  spend  all  her  life  and  been  surfeited  with  attention, 
and  that  had  prompted  her  feeling  that  she  had  been 
slighted,  was  now  quite  appeased. 

Verney  beamed.  "  I  hoped  you  would,"  he  said,  and 
[109] 


The  Politician 

felt  suddenly  that  this  very  good-looking  girl  with  her 
frank,  straightforward  ways  was  the  one  person  he  knew 
to  whom  he  could  talk  openly  about  the  things  that  lay 
nearest  his  heart. 

"  I  've  been  working  like  a  nailer,"  he  said,  "  since  I 
saw  you  out  in  Chicago.  I  took  only  a  week  off  in 
July,  when  I  went  up  to  the  woods  with  my  Uncle  Rich- 
mond —  you  must  meet  him,  by  the  way,  he  is  the  best 
there  is,  and  —  as  I  told  you  at  first  —  I  've  hardly  as 
much  as  slept  since  I  returned." 

Harriet  looked  her  concern.  "  But  you  must,"  she 
said,  "  you  must  sleep.  If  you  lose  your  health,  what 
will  become  of  your  career?  " 

Verney  had  never  particularly,  or  in  so  many  words, 
thought  of  himself  as  having  a  "  career."  The  word 
had  been  so  much  used  in  connection  with  fictitious 
heroes  in  novels  and  on  the  stage  that  it  had  only  a  hack- 
neyed significance  to  him ;  but  he  understood  that  Har- 
riet used  it  because  she  really  believed  he  had  a  career 
and  that  in  the  fullest  sense  of  the  word,  and  he  felt 
grateful  to  her  for  the  belief.  More  than  anything 
was  he  grateful  for  the  anxiety  that  her  eyes  showed  so 
plainly  as  she  made  her  plea.  How  very  sweet  it  was 
of  her  to  be  so  interested  as  that  in  what  he  did ! 

"  Thanks,"  he  said ;  "  it 's  good  of  you  to  worry 
about  it,  although  I  would  not  have  distressed  you  for 
anything.  And  I  would  n't  tell  you  all  this  about  my- 
self, only  I  am  awfully  blue  to-day,  and  there  are  n't  a 
whole  lot  of  people  that  I  feel  are  interested  in  hearing, 
and  I  feel  somehow,  you  are?" 

[110] 


The  Episode  of  the  Bracelet 

**  I  am,"  said  Harriet  quietly,  "  and  I  want  to  be 
your  friend,  to  have  you  tell  me  things  if  it  helps.  I 
should  be  proud  to  be  the  confidante  of  •— "  she  paused 
and  smiled  brightly  at  him  — "  of  a  politician !  "  she 
finished. 

Verney  had  never  before  in  his  experience  encountered 
anything  like  the  utter  charm  of  this  candid  hero- 
worship  of  which  he  was  made  the  object,  and  although 
he  recognized  that  her  words  were  half  playful,  a  thrill 
of  pleasure  went  through  him.  The  admiration  of  a 
young  and  ingenuous  member  of  the  other  sex  will  often 
succeed  in  flattering  a  man  not  usually  susceptible  to 
flattery.  He  did  care  about  his  work  more  than  any- 
thing else  in  life,  and  it  was  pleasant  to  have  this  very 
attractive  girl  care  too ;  and  Harriet  in  her  supreme  con- 
fidence that  she  was  interested  in  the  man  on  account  of 
the  career  and  not  in  the  career  on  account  of  the  man, 
showed  more  plainly  than  her  natural  reserve  would  have 
permitted  if  the  reverse  had  been  true,  that  she  did  care. 
No  wonder  that  Verney's  pulses  quickened  a  little. 

"  Friendship  is  the  finest  thing  in  the  world,"  he  said, 
with  the  earnestness  and  enthusiasm  of  the  man  who 
knows  nothing  at  all  about  that  sentiment  where  women 
are  concerned. 

And  "  Yes,"  she  agreed,  with  the  conviction  and 
finality  of  the  girl  who  has  had  no  experience  as  yet  of 
any  other  sentiment. 

"  I  have  something  rather  interesting  to  tell  you,"  he 
said  next.  "  It 's  only  in  the  air  at  present,  nothing  to 
count  on  at  all  —  but  they  're  talking  about  nominating 

[111] 


The  Politician 

me  for  Attorney-general  if  my  friend  Ordway  gets 
the  nomination  for  Governor."  He  flushed  at  Harriet's 
expression  of  pleased  surprise. 

"  Oh,"  she  said,  "  why  did  n't  you  tell  me  before?  Do 
you  think  there  's  any  chance  he  will  get  it  ?  " 

"  It  looks  as  though  he  might ;  we  've  got  things 
started  now  in  nice  shape,  and  I  should  n't  wonder  at  all 
if  he  carried  the  convention.  We  've  had  a  test  vote 
applied  in  thirteen  of  the  Assembly  Districts  of  New 
York  and  Kings  Counties,  and  six  of  the  New  York 
Districts  cast  majorities  against  the  renomination  of 
the  Governor,  and  the  Kings  County  totals  showed  a 
net  vote  of  more  than  two  to  one  against  him.  Of 
course  it 's  only  a  test,  but  does  n't  it  look  as  if  we  had 
a  good  show  to  win?  " 

Harriet  thought  it  did,  but  all  unconsciously  showed 
that  her  interest  in  that  fact  was  on  account  of  Ellis's 
prospects,  not  Ordway's. 

"  Then  I  should  think  you  'd  be  almost  sure  of  the 
Attorney-generalship !  "  she  said. 

But  Verney  laughed.  "  Not  in  the  least,"  he  said ; 
"  nothing  's  sure  in  this  life,  and  in  political  life  that 's 
more  than  ever  true." 

"  But  you  said  you  'd  be  offered  it  if  Ordway  were 
nominated?  " 

*'  No,  I  only  said  they  were  talking  about  offering  it 
to  me.  What  is  more  likely  to  happen  is  that  they  will 
change  their  minds  and  offer  it  to  some  one  else." 

"  Oh,  why?"  she  asked,  disappointed. 

He  laughed.  "  No  reason,  except  that  it  seems  to  be 
[112] 


The  Episode  of  the  Bracelet 

an  established  fact  that  the  men  who  do  the  hard  prac- 
tical work  of  politics,  are  n't  the  ones  to  draw  prizes." 

"  Must  they  work  '  all  for  love  and  nothing  for  re- 
ward,' as  the  '  Faery  Queen  '  has  it?  " 

"  Apparently,  unless  of  course  they  're  out  for 
graft." 

She  shook  her  head.  "  I  don't  grasp  the  psychology 
of  that." 

He  looked  very  thoughtful.  "  It 's  their  own  fault," 
he  said  seriously,  "  the  politicians'  own  fault.  Because 
many  of  them  are  n't  honest  and  disinterested,  because 
many  of  them  work  for  their  party  for  what  there  is  in 
it,  for  what  money  they  can  make,  because  most  of  them 
are  selfish.  And  that  discredits  them  with  the  public. 
The  people  know,  or  most  of  them  do,  that  to  get  any- 
where or  do  anything  there  must  be  men  in  control  who 
will  point  out  the  way  to  them,  help  them  to  form  their 
opinions,  get  the  average  good  but  lazy  citizen  to  vote; 
but  they  resent  —  and  quite  properly  —  the  abuse  of 
this  service,  and  decline  to  consider  for  high  office  the 
men  who  take  advantage  of  the  power  vested  in  them 
and  make  of  it  an  article  of  commerce,  to  be  bought 
and  sold." 

"  What  a  pity ! "  said  Harriet.  "  And  so  the  poor 
things  who  work  just  as  hard  as  the  others  and  harder, 
but  are  not  corrupt,  have  to  suffer  for  the  wrong-doing 
of  the  others !  " 

"  Exactly.  The  innocent  as  usual  suffer  with  the 
guilty.  And  that  is  why  I  am  so  pleased  that  they 
spoke  of  offering  me  the  nomination  for  Attorney-gen- 
*  8  [ 113  ] 


The  Politician 

eral.  Precedent  to  the  contrary  notwithstanding,  you 
know,  it  would  seem  to  indicate  that  honesty  as  an  asset 
in  the  election  to  office  is  coming  up  in  the  world.  And 
that 's  why  I  so  much  want  Ordway,  who  is  himself  a 
hard-working,  practical  politician  of  principle,  to  win. 
It 's  my  ambition,  as  I  think  I  've  told  you,  to  remove  the 
odium  from  the  reputation  of  politicians,  to  make  the 
title  no  longer  a  term  of  reproach;  and  with  every 
appointment  of  the  right  kind  of  politician  to  office,  it 
comes  nearer  gratification." 

"  I  hope  you  will  succeed,"  said  Harriet.  So  absorbed 
were  they  in  the  conversation  that  neither  of  them  saw 
the  maid,  who  had  returned  from  her  trip  upstairs  to 
tell  Miss  Rand  that  Mrs.  Ellis  was  not  at  home,  come  to 
the  door  that  opened  into  the  hall  and  after  a  moment  of 
hesitation,  retreat.  Convinced  that  it  was  all  right  and 
that  they  did  not  need  to  hear  from  her,  by  the  fact 
that  "  Mr.  Verney  "  was  talking  to  the  young  lady,  she 
had  tactfully  withdrawn  to  another  part  of  the  house 
without  interrupting  them. 

"  I  wish  I  could  help  you  in  some  way,  but  I  'm  afraid 
there  's  nothing  much  a  girl  can  do,"  added  Miss  Rand. 

"  Yes,  there  is,"  Verney  assured  her  earnestly.  "A 
girl  can  do  a  great  deal.  Just  to  know  someone  who 
has  confidence  in  you,  to  have  a  friend  who  believes  in 
you,  is  the  greatest  help  in  the  world  toward  giving  a 
man  confidence  in  himself.  And  you  can't  do  anything 
without  confidence." 

"  And  opportunity  ?  "  said  Harriet. 

"  Yes,  opportunity,  of  course.     There  are  all  sorts 
[114] 


The  Episode  of  the  Bracelet 

of  those  in  politics,  wrong  opportunities  to  rise  that 
mean  the  abandonment  of  your  principles,  and  right 
ones.  But  it 's  only  the  right  ones,  of  course,  that  a 
man  regrets,  the  chances  you  lose  through  your  own 
negligence.  That 's  a  hard  thought,  you  know,  to 
think  you  might  have  done  something  if  only  you  had  n't 
been  asleep  at  the  switch  when  Opportunity  came  along. 
A  favorite  poem  of  mine  is  on  the  subject.  Would  you 
like  to  see  it?  I  think  I  have  it  with  me?  " 

Harriet  said  she  would  very  much  indeed,  and  he 
opened  his  pocketbook  and  took  out  a  newspaper 
clipping. 

"  It 's  by  a  man  named  Ingalls,  and  it 's  one  of  the 
best  poems  I  know,  classics  not  excepted,"  he  said,  hand- 
ing it  to  her. 

"  You  read  it  aloud,"  she  suggested. 

"  If  you  wish,"  he  said,  and  read  these  verses  on 
"  Opportunity  " : 

**  Master  of  human  destinies  am  I ; 
Fame,  Love,  and  Fortune  on  my  footsteps  wait; 
Cities  and  fields  I  walk;  I  penetrate 
Deserts  and  seas  remote;  and  passing  by 
Hovel  and  mart  and  palace,  soon  or  late 
I  knock  unbidden  once  at  every  gate. 
If  sleeping,  wake;  if  feasting,  rise,  before 
I  turn  away.     It  is  the  hour  of  fate; 
And  they  who  follow  me  reach  every  state 
Mortals  desire,  and  conquer  every  foe 
Save  death;  but  those  who  doubt  or  hesitate, 
Condemned  to  failure,  penury,  and  woe, 
Seek  me  in  vain  and  uselessly  implore; 
I  answer  not,  and  I  return  no  more." 

[115] 


The  Politician 

The  voice  of  the  reader  shook  into  silence  as  the  last 
sounding  phrase  rolled  from  his  lips,  momentous  with 
warning,  and  sank  into  his  heart  and  that  of  his  listener. 

"  Fame,  Love,  and  Fortune  on  my  footsteps  wait ! " 
breathed  Harriet,  thrilling  at  the  impressive  words. 

"  I  answer  not,  and  I  return  no  more ! "  repeated 
Ellis ;  "  tremendous,  is  n't  it?  " 

"  Yes,  but  it 's  wrong.  Because  it  does  return,  op- 
portunity !  I  know  a  better  philosophy  than  that,  one 
of  hope  —  and  I  have  its  teachings  embodied  here  in 
another  set  of  verses !  See !  Look !  "  And  she  rose 
in  her  eagerness  and  drew  from  her  purse  another  clip- 
ping and  thrust  it  into  Verney's  hand  as  he  also  rose. 

<k  It 's  an  answer  to  your  poem,  called  by  the  same 
name,  '  Opportunity.'  It  was  written  by  Judge  Walter 
Malone,  and  came  out  in  the  papers  just  after  yours 
was  published." 

"  I  never  saw  it,"  said  Verney.  "  Then  you  had  read 
mine  before  ?  " 

"  No,  I  missed  it  when  it  came  out,  but  I  've  always 
heard  of  it  and  wanted  to  read  it." 

Ellis  drew  a  long  breath.  "  It 's  rather  an  odd 
thing,  quite  an  interesting  coincidence,"  he  said, 
"  is  n't  it,  that  we  should  each  unknown  to  the  other 
have  cut  out  and  cherished  question  and  answer  like 
that?  " 

"  Very  interesting,  very  strange."  Brown  eye  looked 
into  blue  eye  in  mutual  wonder,  and  upon  discovering  the 
joy  of  the  thing  continued  to  gaze  long  after  the 
wonder  had  left  them  —  flushing  cheek  for  the  girl  and 

[116] 


The  Episode  of  the  Bracelet 

accelerated  breathing  for  the  man  testifying  to  the  ex- 
istence of  a  dangerous  side  to  that  fascinating  employ- 
ment. 

"  Read  it,"  said  Harriet  presently  —  she  was  the  first 
to  drop  her  eyes  —  and  held  out  the  poem  again. 

"  No,"  he  said,  "  we  '11  read  it  together."  And  side 
by  side,  shoulder  touching  shoulder,  they  stood  by  the 
uncurtained  window  with  the  late  afternoon  sunshine 
falling  over  the  brown  roses  in  her  hat  and  his  smooth 
dark  head,  while  their  eyes  travelled  over  the  following; 
lines  to  "  Opportunity  " : 

"  They  do  me  wrong  who  say  I  come  no  more, 
When  once  I  've  knocked  and  failed  to  find  you  in; 
For  every  day  I  stand  outside  your  door 
And  bid  you  wake  and  rise,  to  fight  and  win. 
Wail  not  for  precious  chances  passed  away, 
Weep  not  for  golden  ages  on  the  wane; 
Each  night  I  burn  the  records  of  the  day; 
At  sunrise  every  soul  is  born  again. 
Laugh  like  a  boy  at  splendors  that  have  sped; 
To  vanished  joys  be  blind  and  deaf  and  dumb; 
My  judgments  seal  the  dead  past  with  its  dead, 
But  never  bind  a  moment  yet  to  come. 
Though  deep  in  mire,  wring  not  your  hands  and  weep; 
I  lend  my  arm  to  all  who  say  '  I  can.' 
No  shamefaced  outcast  ever  sank  so  deep 
But  yet  may  rise  and  be  again  a  man. 
Dost  thou  behold  thy  lost  youth  all  aghast? 
Dost  reel  from  righteous  retribution's  blow? 
Then  turn  from  blotted  archives  of  the  past, 
And  find  the  future's  pages  white  as  snow. 
Art  thou  a  mourner?    Rouse  thee  from  thy  spell. 
Art  thou  a  sinner?    Sins  may  be  forgiven. 
Each  morning  gives  thee  wings  to  flee  from  Hell, 
Each  night  a  star  to  guide  thy  feet  to  Heaven ! " 

[117] 


The  Politician 

"  Is  n't  that  wonderful  ? "  cried  Ellis  as  they 
finished.  "  Why,  a  man  could  conquer  the  world  after 
reading  that !  I  swear  to  the  Lord  he  could !  '  Each 
night  I  burn  the  records  of  the  day;  at  sunrise  every 
soul  is  born  again ! '  Could  anything  be  finer?  " 

"  And,  '  laugh  like  a  boy  at  splendors  that  have  sped ; 
to  vanished  joys  be  blind  and  deaf  and  dumb!'  Oh, 
Verney,"  rejoined  Harriet,  scarcely  conscious  that  she 
had  said  his  name,  she  had  called  him  so  in  her  heart 
so  long,  "  is  n't  that  fine  ?  " 

"  Great ! "  agreed  the  young  man  enthusiastically. 

"And  don't  you  believe  it?  Isn't  it  all  truer  than 
the  other?  " 

"  I  'm  sure  of  it !  Yours  teaches  courage  and  hope 
—  mine,  despair.  Can  you  let  me  have  this  copy  ?  I 
know  a  number  of  other  men  who  will  be  the  better  for 
reading  it." 

"  Of  course ;  I  have  another.  Besides,  I  know  them 
by  heart." 

"  Thanks,"  he  said ;  "  you  don't  know  how  much  good 
you  've  done  me.  I  was  feeling  awfully  blue  and  down 
on  my  luck  this  afternoon,  and  you  and  your  poem  have 
inspired  me  all  over  again  —  set  me  on  my  feet." 

He  seized  her  hands  impulsively  as  he  spoke. 

At  this  moment  his  mother  appeared  in  the  doorway. 


[118] 


CHAPTER  VII 

FAME,  LOYE,  AND  FORTUNE 

MRS.  ELLIS  had  just  returned  from  a  shop- 
ping trip  down  town,  and  having  let  her- 
self in  with  a  latch-key,  had  not  been 
warned  by  the  maid  that  she  had  a  visitor.  Voices  from 
the  sitting-room  first  intimated  that  some  one  was  there, 
and  as  she  expected  her  youngest  daughter  Carol  down 
from  Tuxedo  that  afternoon,  she  was  not  at  all  sur- 
prised. That  young  woman  had  put  off  leaving  that 
delightful  place  until  the  last  possible  moment  and  was 
to  take  a  later  train  to  the  city  than  her  mother's.  Mrs. 
Ellis  therefore  entered  the  room  on  the  supposition  that 
her  daughter  had  arrived  and  that  one  of  the  voices  was 
hers  and  the  other  that  of  her  son  Vernor,  whom  she 
had  left  in  the  house  feeling  rather  indisposed,  when  she 
went  down  town  that  morning. 

She  was  a  tall,  heavily  built  woman  with  a  plain 
fashion  of  dress,  gorgeous  rings  on  the  small,  well- 
formed  hands,  from  which  she  had  just  stripped  the 
gloves,  and  a  regularity  of  profile  which  a  rapidly 
developing  double  chin  had  not  yet  destroyed.  A  pair 
of  piercing  blue  eyes  behind  her  glasses  united  with 
severely  dressed  gray  hair  to  give  her  an  expression  of 
severity;  and  Harriet,  as  she  saw  her  standing  in  the 

[119] 


The  Politician 

doorway  and  realized  whom  she  must  be,  made  up  her 
mind  at  once  that  explanations  to  this  uncompromising 
and  aristocratic  old  ladj  would  be  difficult  to  make. 
For  her  part,  Mrs.  Ellis  peering  near-sightedly  at  them 
through  her  glasses  down  the  long  stretch  of  dim-lit 
drawing-room,  where  they  stood  now  in  the  shadow, 
came  to  the  conclusion  as  she  took  in  the  fact  that  the 
man  and  the  girl  had  been  standing  with  clasped  hands, 
that  Carol  had  only  just  arrived,  and  that  brother  and 
sister  were  greeting  each  other;  though  even  as  she 
came  to  this  conclusion,  a  vague  surprise  at  the  tender- 
ness of  that  greeting  crossed  her  mind.  Carol  and 
Vernor  were  seldom  demonstrative  toward  each  other, 
and  their  relations  had  been  noted  in  the  family  for  being 
of  the  cat-and-dog  variety  which  usually  obtains  be- 
tween big  brothers  and  little  sisters.  However,  it  was 
on  this  supposition  that  she  addressed  the  two  ill-defined 
figures  standing  in  mute  self-consciousness  at  the  other 
end  of  the  room. 

"  Is  that  you,  Carol?  "  she  asked.  "  I  did  n't  know 
you  were  here.  I  've  only  just  returned  from  down 
town  myself." 

Harriet  started.  It  was  worse  than  she  had  thought. 
Mrs.  Ellis  had  not  seen  the  maid,  then,  and  did  not  know 
who  she  was.  If  she  had  been  troubled  at  the  thought 
of  explaining  how  she  came  to  know  Verney  so  well, 
how  much  more  apprehensive  did  she  become  when  it 
dawned  upon  her  that  Mrs.  Ellis  had  just  come  in  from 
the  street  and  that  she  had  not  been  in  the  house  during 
the  entire  conversation  with  Verney.  What  had  hap- 

[120] 


Fame,  Love,  and  Fortune 

pened  to  the  maid,  then,  until  whose  return  only  she  had 
allowed  the  young  man  to  beguile  the  moments?  And 
how  mean  of  Verney  not  to  have  told  her  at  once  that 
his  mother  was  out!  But  then  she  should  have  asked 
him,  perhaps,  and  perhaps  he  did  n't  really  know !  It 
was  more  Cornelia's  fault,  after  all,  that  she  found  her- 
self in  such  a  position,  for  asking  her  to  undertake  the 
commission  of  the  bracelet. 

While  these  thoughts  passed  swiftly  through  Harriet's 
mind,  Mrs.  Ellis  had  turned  and  was  going  toward  the 
hall,  evidently  taking  silence  for  consent  in  the  matter 
of  having  her  question  answered,  and  then  it  was  the 
kind  of  question  that  does  n't  require  an  answer. 

"  I  'm  going  up  to  rest  before  dinner,"  she  said ; 
"you  children  be  ready  on  time,  won't  you?  I've 
brought  only  Wilson  and  Katy  down  with  me  to-day, 
so  we  '11  have  it  early." 

She  would  have  gone  without  realizing  that  she  was 
not  speaking  to  her  daughter,  and  Harriet  would  have 
been  spared  the  unpleasant  task  of  enlightening  her; 
but  Harriet  was  not  that  kind  of  girl.  She  had  no  in- 
tention of  sparing  herself  at  the  cost  of  deceiving  Mrs. 
Ellis  and  setting  a  clandestine  seal  upon  her  meeting 
with  Verney ;  so  in  spite  of  the  young  man's  protest  — 
for  he  knew  his  mother's  deep-dyed  veneration  for  the 
conventions  and  had  whispered  that  she  had  "  better  let 
it  go  at  that,  and  bring  the  bracelet  another  day," — 
she  ran  after  Mrs.  Ellis  and  caught  up  with  her  at  the 
foot  of  the  stairs." 

"  Oh,  Mrs.  Ellis ! "  she  cried,  rather  breathlessly, 
[121] 


The  Politician 

"  you  've  made  a  mistake !  I  'm  not  your  daughter  at 
all.  I  'm  Harriet  Rand,  and  I  came  to  return  Cornelia's 
bracelet." 

Mrs.  Ellis,  who  had  just  gathered  her  skirt  for  the 
ascent  of  the  stairs,  relinquished  it  at  this  surprising 
address,  in  favor  of  adjusting  her  glasses. 

"  What,  what?  "  she  said,  "  I  don't  understand.  Who 
did  you  say  you  were?  "  Then  upon  perceiving  that  the 
person  she  was  speaking  to  was  a  young  and  attractive 
girl  of  about  Carol's  age,  she  spoke  more  kindly. 
"What  is  it,  my  dear?  And  what  is  your  name?  I 
should  know  it,  I  know,  but  Carol  has  so  many  friends 
it 's  hard  to  remember  them  all." 

Harriet  saw  that  the  older  woman  did  not  connect  her 
with  the  girl  she  had  seen  with  Verney  the  moment 
before,  and  that  she  had  more  probably  jumped  to  the 
conclusion  that  this  young  girl  was  a  friend  whom 
Carol  had  brought  with  her.  This  made  her  task  more 
difficult  and  embarrassed  her  still  more,  though  at  the 
same  time  it  only  made  her  all  the  more  determined  to 
make  it  clear  to  Mrs.  Ellis  who  she  really  was. 

"  I  'm  Harriet  Rand  of  Chicago,"  she  repeated 
desperately ;  "  I  know  your  daughter,  Mrs.  Presbey, 
and  she  asked  me  to  give  you  this  bracelet."  Harriet 
held  it  out  to  her.  "  I  called  this  afternoon  for  that 
purpose,  hoping  to  see  you ;  and  while  the  maid  was 
gone  to  find  out  if  you  were  at  home  your  son  came 
in  and  entertained  me." 

If  Cornelia  Presbey  had  done  as  she  had  told  Harriet 
she  would  do,  and  had  written  her  mother  that  Harriet 

[122] 


Fame,  Love,  and  Fortune 

was  coming,  and  on  what  errand,  the  mere  mention  of 
the  word  "  bracelet "  would  have  revealed  the  situation, 
to  Mrs.  Ellis  at  once,  and  all  would  have  been  plain 
sailing.  But  Cornelia  the  dilatory,  Cornelia  the  forget- 
ful, who  was  always  going  to  do  and  never  did,  had 
forgotten  again.  And  the  consequence  was  that  the 
only  part  of  Harriet's  speech  that  the  older  lady  noticed 
was  the  part  that  seemed  to  have  reference  to  the  con- 
fidential and  intimate  attitude  in  which  she  had  dis- 
covered this  stranger  and  her  son,  upon  first  entering 
the  room,  and  which  now  seemed  to  her  to  require  ex- 
planation. 

"  So  you  know  my  son,  do  you,"  she  asked  coldly, 
and  stopped  as  if  for  further  enlightenment  as  to  the 
exact  degree  of  Harriet's  knowledge.  Verney  from  the 
doorway  where  he  had  been  anxiously  observing  his 
mother  unobserved  by  her,  now  stepped  forward  to  take 
his  part  in  the  explanations;  but  Harriet,  whose  blood 
was  up  by  this  time  and  who  suddenly  felt  not  at  all 
afraid  of  the  rather  formidable  old  lady  she  had  been, 
talking  to,  waved  him  back. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  in  leisurely  accents ;  "  I  know  your 
son.  I  met  him  out  in  Chicago  some  time  ago."  She 
looked  Mrs.  Ellis  squarely  and  calmly  in  the  eye. 
"  Here 's  your  bracelet,"  she  added,  "  that  Cornelia 
asked  me  to  bring  " ;  and  putting  the  little  package  into 
Mrs.  Ellis's  unheeding  hand,  she  turned  to  Verney. 

"  I  'm  ready  to  go  home,  now,"  she  said,  "  if  you  '11 
take  me." 

Either  the  look  or  the  bracelet  or  the  sound  of  her 
[123] 


The  Politician 

daughter's  name  must  have  enlightened  Mrs.  Ellis  at 
last,  or  perhaps  it  was  the  noble  air  of  the  girl  and  her 
spirit  that  proved  sufficient  guarantee  of  her  utter  lack 
of  a  guilty  conscience;  for  all  in  a  moment  the  older 
woman  recognized  that  she  had  made  a  mistake  in  ques- 
tioning her  conduct  in  any  way,  and  coming  swiftly 
forward  took  Harriet's  hand  with  all  graciousness. 

"  I  see ! "  she  said,  "  you  've  brought  me  back  my 
bracelet.  How  very  good  of  you,  and  how  very  stupid 
of  Cornelia  not  to  let  me  know  you  were  coming !  —  it 
has  made  me  so  slow  about  realizing  who  you  were." 

"  It  does  n't  matter  at  all,  Mrs.  Ellis,"  replied  Har- 
riet, relieved  to  find  that  it  was  only  Cornelia's  care- 
lessness and  not  the  unfortunate  attitude  in  which  she 
and  Verney  had  been  caught  that  had  caused  Mrs. 
Ellis's  doubt  of  her.  "  And  I  'm  very  glad  to  have  been 
of  any  service." 

"  It  was  nice  of  you  to  bring  it,"  reiterated  Mrs. 
Ellis,  "  and  I  'm  very  grateful  to  Cornelia  for  sending 
such  a  delightful  emissary  with  this  troublesome  piece 
of  jewelry.  She  knew  I  would  like  to  meet  you." 

"  Of  course  she  did!"  corroborated  Verney,  asserting 
himself  now,  his  eyes  kindling  with  admiration  for  the 
character  Harriet  had  shown  in  handling  a  rather 
difficult  situation.  "  And  look  here,  mother,  I  want  Miss 
Rand  to  stay  to  dinner !  " 

"  So  do  I,  if  she  can  stay,"  returned  his  mother  in- 
stantly, smiling  at  Harriet. 

"  That 's  settled  then.  Here,  let  *s  have  your  coat !  " 
he  said,  before  Harriet  had  time  to  speak. 

[124] 


Fame,  Love,  and  Fortune 

"  But  I  must  n't !  "  she  expostulated.  "  I  have  to  get 
home!" 

"  No,  you  don't ;  you  told  me  you  did  n't  have  any- 
thing else  to  do  and  you  'd  stay  if  you  were  asked ! " 
fabricated  Verney,  deftly  removing  the  coat  which 
Harriet  had  not  intended  to  yield. 

"  I  did  n't  say  any  such  thing,"  she  said,  half  laugh- 
ing, half  indignant.  "  Don't  believe  him,  Mrs.  Ellis, 
will  you?"  And  she  threw  that  lady  a  beseeching 
glance. 

"  As  if  I  would !  "  replied  the  Politician's  mother,  with 
a  look  of  pretended  scorn  at  her  son.  "  Don't  you 
suppose  I  know  Verney !  But  that  need  n't  bother  us  at 
all.  Independent  of  his  wishes  in  the  matter  it  would 
make  me  very  happy  to  have  you  stay.  I  expect  my 
daughter  down  from  Tuxedo  every  minute,  and  I  should 
like  to  have  her  meet  you." 

Harriet  hesitated  and  demurred  again,  but  Mrs. 
Ellis  was  so  sincere  and  so  urgent,  and  the  look  in 
Verney's  eye  so  threatening,  that  she  at  last  allowed 
herself  to  be  persuaded. 

"  That 's  nice,"  said  Mrs.  Ellis ;  "  it 's  a  very  informal 
way  to  ask  you,  I  know,  but  then  it 's  the  informal 
season  now,  before  everybody  gets  back  to  town.  I  've 
only  just  arrived  myself!" 

"  That 's  so,"  said  Verney,  anxiously.  "  I  forgot 
that.  There  '11  be  something  to  eat  for  dinner, 
mother?  " 

"  Those  ducks  your  Uncle  Richmond  shot.  Wilson 
brought  them  down  with  him  to-day ;  and  maybe,  bread 

[125] 


The  Politician 

and  butter !  "  replied  his  mother,  smiling.  "  Will  that 
do?  " 

"  Oh,  you  know  very  well  that 's  not  all ! "  said 
Ellis,  laughing.  His  mother  showed  a  certain  relish 
for  teasing  him  at  times  that  often  caught  him  una- 
wares. 

"  And  that  reminds  me,"  remarked  Mrs.  Ellis  from  the 
stairs,  "  your  uncle  is  coming  to  dinner,  too ;  he  may 
come  with  Carol." 

"  Fine  business ! "  commented  Verney  to  Harriet. 
"  You  '11  like  my  Uncle  Richmond ;  he 's  a  wonder !  " 

And  Harriet  agreed  with  him  when  a  little  later,  after 
she  had  telephoned  her  aunt  about  her  plan  to  stay  to 
dinner  at  Mrs.  Ellis's,  Mr.  Vernor  arrived  in  company 
with  Carol  Ellis. 

Richmond  Vernor  was  a  tall,  finely-built  man  with 
the  clean-shaven  face  of  youth  and  the  gray  hair  of 
middle  age.  He  didn't  look  in  the  least  like  Verney; 
but  Harriet,  as  she  shook  ,hands  with  him  noticed  several 
points  of  resemblance  between  him  and  his  sister,  Mrs. 
Ellis.  She  was  impressed,  however,  with  his  cordial, 
courteous  manner  and  the  humorous  kindliness  of  his 
brown  eyes.  Verney 's  sister  Carol  resembled  him 
slightly,  but  looked  more  like  Cornelia  Presbey.  She 
had  the  same  very  fair  hair  and  irregularly  attractive 
features. 

"  I  've  heard  Cornelia  talk  about  you  ever  so  often," 
said  Miss  Ellis,  very  small,  very  slight,  and  rather 
pretty,  clasping  Harriet's  hand  warmly  as  Verney  made 
the  necessary  introductions  and  explanations.  "  And 

[126] 


Fame,  Love,  and  Fortune 

I  do  think,"  as  her  brother  finished  telling  the  history 
of  the  bracelet  and  its  restoration  to  its  rightful  owners, 
"  it  was  nice  of  you  to  bring  me  back  the  bracelet. 
Cornelia's  such  an  old  slowcoach  I  thought  I  'd  never 
see  it  again !  " 

Harriet  thoroughly  enjoyed  the  dinner,  served  in  the 
large,  dark,  high-ceilinged  dining-room  panelled  in 
black  walnut,  with  the  ubiquitous  brown  holland  covers 
on  the  seats  of  the  black  walnut  chairs. 

"  Why  did  n't  Wilson  take  off  those  old  covers, 
mamma?  "  said  Carol,  looking  about  with  discontent  at 
the  brown  holland  aspect  of  the  room. 

"  My  dear,"  replied  her  mother  indulgently,  "  give 
the  poor  man  a  minute !  We  've  only  come  to  town  to- 
day, and  you  know  we  're  back  a  whole  month  earlier 
than  usual  this  year." 

"  On  father's  account?  "  asked  Verney. 

A  shadow  crossed  Mrs.  Ellis's  face. 

"Yes,"  she  said;  "although  Delia"  —  Delia  was 
the  cook,  who  had  been  in  charge  of  the  house  all 
summer  while  her  mistress  was  in  Tuxedo  — "  looks 
after  him  pretty  well,  I  don't  like  to  leave  him  alone 
any  longer  than  I  can  help." 

The  Politician  was  silent.  He  knew  his  mother's 
reason  for  not  wishing  to  leave  his  father  alone  was 
the  nervous  condition  of  Mr.  Ellis's  health,  which  was 
supposed  to  have  been  the  immediate  result  of  a  long 
succession  of  business  reverses.  A  feeling  of  remorse 
came  over  Verney  that  he  had  not  himself  been  with 
him  more.  There  was  no  excuse  for  it,  living  as  he 

[127] 


The  Politician 

jhad  been  in  the  same  house  with  his  father  more  or 
less  all  summer;  and  he  went  on  eating  without  saying 
anything. 

"  Carol  has  already  begun  to  worry  about  her  debut, 
I  see,"  remarked  Mr.  Vernor,  glancing  mischievously 
at  his  niece.  "  She 's  afraid  you  '11  leave  the  brown 
hoilands  on  then,  Helen !  "  And  he  smiled  at  his  sister. 

"  I  *m  not  at  all !  I  was  n't  thinking  of  it !  "  denied 
<Carol,  blushing  furiously  to  prove  she  had  been. 
."**  You  think  you  know  everything,  Uncle  Ritchie ! " 

**  I  should  think  he  did  too,"  observed  Verney,  wak- 
ing up,  "  to  judge  by  your  blushes." 

"  Quite  a  sunset ! "  chimed  in  young  Miss  Ellis's 
other  tormentor.  "  You  must  get  over  that  habit, 
JBaby,  or  people  will  never  believe  you  're  really  out ! 
JA.sk  Miss  Rand  if  that  is  n't  so.  I  'm  sure  she  was  n't 
lialf  so  nervous  about  it  all  as  you  are." 

"  On  the  contrary,"  protested  Harriet,  coming  to  the 
rescue  of  the  tormented  one,  though  she  smiled  reassur- 
ingly at  the  older  man  for  whom  she  had  conceived 
a  sudden  liking,  "  I  was  so  nervous  and  excited  about 
my  coming-out  reception  that  when  the  great  day  came 
J  did  n't  want  to  go  down  at  all,  and  begged  my  aunt 
to  let  me  stay  in  my  room." 

"  But  she  did  n't  let  you  ?  "  queried  Miss  Ellis,  hor- 
rified expostulation  in  every  tone. 

"  Yes,"  said  Verney  solemnly,  "  they  let  her ;  and  all 
the  people  who  came  to  meet  the  beautiful  Miss  Rand 
went  away  in  tears,  they  were  so  disappointed." 

"  How  can  you  be  so  ridiculous  ?  "  laughed  Harriet. 
[128] 


Fame,  Love,  and  Fortune 

She  did  n't  stay  very  long  after  dinner,  for  Mrs, 
Cumloch  ,had  promised  to  send  her  maid  in  a  cab  at 
nine  o'clock.  And  as  Harriet  and  the  two  men  stood 
in  the  hall  waiting  for  the  cab  to  arrive,  Mrs.  Ellis 
and  Carol  having  lingered  in  the  dining-room  to  give 
some  instructions  to  Wilson,  Mr.  Vernor  said,  putting 
his  arm  about  Verney's  shoulders  as  he  spoke, 

"  This  is  a  great  fellow,  Miss  Rand,  if  you  did  n't 
know  it  before.  We  call  him  '  The  Politician '  in  the 
family  just  by  way  of  a  joke,  but  no  one  takes  him 
and  his  career  seriously  except  me,  and  I  'm  betting 
on  him ! "  he  added  playfully,  slapping  his  nephew  af~ 
fectionately  on  the  back  as  he  spoke. 

The  Politician  turned  a  sparkling  eye  on  his  uncle 
and  smiled  gratefully.  "  I  could  n't  do  anything  if 
you  were  n't,"  said  he. 

"  I  'm  betting  on  him  too,"  asserted  Harriet,  with 
the  nicest  kind  of  a  glance  at  the  young  man. 

"  Then  he  can't  help  winning,"  Mr.  Vernor  replied 
quickly. 

"  With  two  such  friends  to  believe  in  me,"  said 
Ellis  lightly,  "it  would  be  a  pity  if  I  didn't!  I'll 
probably  wake  some  morning  before  long  and  find  my- 
self famous." 

"  Yes,  with  your  qualifications  all  you  have  to  do  is 
to  take  advantage  of  your  opportunities,  and  Fame, 
Love  and  Fortune,  as  it  said  in  the  poem,  are  yours ! " 
Harriet  said. 

"  Fame  and  Fortune,  perhaps,  if  I  'm  lucky,"  said 
Ellis  soberly. 

9  [  129  ] 


The  Politician 

"  And  why  not  Love  ?  "  asked  the  girl,  too  sure  of 
herself  to  consider  the  question  personal  at  all. 

"  A  man  can't  expect  everything,"  replied  Ellis, 
knowing  that  in  so  replying  he  was  avoiding  the 
issue.  The  arrival  of  Mrs.  Cumloch's  maid  was  an- 
nounced, and  Harriet  made  her  graceful  acknowledg- 
ments and  departed.  When  Verney  had  returned  from 
putting  Miss  Rand  into  the  cab  he  found  his  uncle, 
who  had  been  too  tactful  to  go  too,  still  standing  in 
the  hall  where  he  had  left  him. 

"  It 's  a  great  thing  to  have  a  career,  Uncle  Ritch," 
he  said,  "  is  n't  it?  "  —  yawning  to  show  that  he  did  n't 
more  than  half  mean  what  he  said. 

Mr.  Vernor  roused  himself  as  if  from  a  deep  reverie. 

"  Yes,"  he  said  thoughtfully  ;  "  you  're  a  very  lucky 
fellow,  Verney."  But  Ellis  felt  instinctively  that  the 
remark  had  reference  to  something  other  than  his 
chances  to  be  famous. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

MRS.   GIBBS   ON    "RESPONSIBILITY" 

HARRIET  now  saw  a  great  deal  of  Carol 
Ellis.  The  two  had  taken  a  great  fancy 
to  each  other,  and  it  was  through  Carol  that 
Miss  Rand  met  Verney's  friend,  Mrs.  Oliver  Ordway, 
although  the  Politician,  who  had  been  anxious  to  have 
them  know  each  other,  had  been  largely  influential  in 
bringing  the  meeting  about.  It  was  to  oblige  Verney, 
too,  that  Mrs.  Ordway  had  invited  Harriet  to  a  little 
theatre  party  she  gave  one  evening,  an  invitation 
Harriet  accepted  unhesitatingly,  in  spite  of  her  aunt's 
murmur  of  protest  that  she  did  n't  quite  like  her  niece 
to  be  so  much  with  people  she  did  n't  know  herself, 
although  she  admitted  that  the  people  in  question  were 
as  nice  as  could  be  wished.  Harriet,  however,  gently 
and  persuasively  contested  this  idea.  It  was  sufficient, 
she  thought,  if  she,  Harriet,  knew  them.  What  was 
the  use  of  being  an  heiress  and  twenty-four  years  old 
if  you  couldn't  do  about  what  you  liked?  And  as 
usual  it  ended  in  unqualified  surrender  on  her  aunt's 
part. 

Mrs.  Ordway  made  a  very  deep  impression  upon  the 
young  girl,  who  thought  she  had  seldom  seen  any  one 
more  gracious  and  more  interesting ;  and  Agnes  Ordway 

[131] 


The  Politician 

was  both.  Though  all  unacknowledged,  the  loneliness 
of  her  life  —  wife  as  she  was  to  a  man  engrossed  in 
politics  to  the  exclusion  of  every  other  interest  —  had 
lent  her  lovely  dark-blue  eyes  an  infinitely  pathetic 
expression.  And  her  restless  motions  and  quick  manner 
of  speaking  would  have  betrayed  to  any  one  who  knew 
the  circumstances,  her  utter  weariness  of  herself,  her 
impatience  of  a  fate  which  made  no  demand  upon  her 
many  noble  qualities,  and  her  unconscious  longing  for 
that  settled  kind  of  life  which  is  the  truest  aspect  of 
domesticity,  and  which  her  husband's  career  as  a  pub- 
lic character  made  absolutely  impossible. 

There  were  only  four  in  Mrs.  Ordway's  theatre  party 
that  Thursday  night,  Mrs.  Ordway  and  Harriet,  and 
tVerney  and  his  uncle,  Richmond  Vernor.  Mr.  Vernor, 
Hpith  his  nephew,  had  the  pleasure  of  knowing  his  hostess 
Very  well.  Harriet  was  very  much  pleased  when  Mrs. 
Ordway  called  for  her  that  evening,  to  find  Mr.  Vernor 
of  the  party,  for  she  liked  Verney's  uncle,  and,  with 
her  usual  rather  youthful  but  quite  attractive  enthu- 
siasm, had  continued  to  be  pleased  with  everything  that 
happened  during  the  evening  from  the  play  to  the 
•cafe  where  they  went  for  supper.  It  was  a  small 
place  on  the  first  floor  of  a  building  on  the  corner 
•of  Fortieth  and  Sixth  Avenue,  very  popular  just 
then  for  the  purpose  in  spite  of  the  noise  from  the 
elevated  which  roared  outside  its  west  windows.  There 
was  nothing  very  much  out  of  the  ordinary  about  it, 
however,  except  that  often  during  the  evening  some 

[132] 


Mrs.  Gibbs  on  "Responsibility" 

popular  actress  or  singer  of  the  day  would  be  secured 
to  vary  the  programme  of  entertainment  furnished  by 
a  green-coated  band  at  the  end  of  the  room. 

As  Mrs.  Ordway  and  her  party  took  their  places, 
Harriet  looked  interestedly  about  her  at  the  low- 
raftered  ceiling  bright  with  many  colored  lights,  the 
bold  design  of  the  mural  decoration,  the  waiters  stand- 
ing at  attention  by  each  table,  and  the  crowd  of  nice- 
looking  people  with  their  distinctly  on-pleasure-bent 
appearance. 

"  What  a  delightful  place ! "  she  said. 

"  It 's  very  popular,"  said  her  hostess ;  "  if  it  were- 
a  little  later  when  everybody  is  back,  we  should  have 
had  to  have  a  table  reserved  to  find  one  unoccupied." 

Yet  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  "  everybody  "  was  not 
back  the  room  seemed  crowded  enough,  and  many 
notables  were  represented.  At  a  table  to  their  right 
sat  a  thin-faced,  freckled,  light-haired  woman  dining^ 
with  another  woman  and  three  men,  to  whom  Mrs. 
Ordway  bowed.  Upon  asking  who  she  was  Harriet  was 
told  that  she  was  the  recently  divorced  wife  of  a  well- 
known  millionaire,  who  had  not  been  content  with  the 
charms  of  light  hair  and  freckles  alone.  At  another 
was  a  new  comet  of  the  theatrical  sky  who  had  lately 
"  swam  into  public  ken,"  and  made  a  sensation,  chiefly 
on  the  strength  of  having  mastered  the  English 
language  in  eighty  days,  more  or  less,  and  her  ability 
to  wear  impossibly  high  collars.  At  still  another 
an  Englishwoman,  who  had  written  a  book  much 

[133] 


The  Politician 

fcised  by  its  immoral  character,  was  dining  with  the 
actor  whom  she  had  persuaded  to  play  the  part  of 
her  loose-lived  hero  in  a  dramatized  version,  and  the 
.manager  who  was  about  to  make,  or  was  at  least  ex- 
pecting to  make,  his  eternal  fortune  by  producing  it. 

"  You  can't  tell,  though,  Agnes,"  remarked  Verney, 
"  whether  the  place  will  be  as  much  patronized  this  season 
as  it  was  last.  That  a  thing  's  popular  one  year  is  no 
sign  it  will  be  the  next  year.  Not  in  New  York,  at 
least." 

"  Perhaps  not.  I  wonder  if  they  '11  have  some  sing- 
ing to-night ;  it 's  so  warm  and  pleasant  I  rather 
thought  they  would." 

As  Mrs.  Ordway  spoke,  the  attention  of  the  party 
was  attracted  by  a  commotion  of  some  sort  at  the 
street  door.  A  man  who  looked  like  an  Italian  organ- 
grinder  —  slouch  hat,  dark  flashing  eyes,  and  generally 
picturesque  appearance  —  seemed  to  be  trying  to  get 
in,  and  a  number  of  waiters  to  be  trying  to  keep  him 
out.  Verney  called  a  waiter  and  asked  him  what  it 
was  all  about,  and  the  man  told  them  the  organ-grinder 
was  trying  to  get  permission  to  sing  to  the  people  in 
•the  restaurant.  "  He  says  he  has  a  fine  voice  and  would 
•like  to  entertain  the  ladies  and  gentlemen,"  explained 
the  waiter.  Hardly  had  the  amusement  subsided,  which 
this  singular  request  on  the  part  of  the  organ-grinder 
had  occasioned  Mrs.  Ordway  and  her  party,  when  to 
their  surprise  they  saw  the  Italian  being  escorted  to  the 
platform  at  the  end  of  the  restaurant. 

After  a  brief  speech  in  which  the  proprietor  ex- 
[134] 


Mrs.  Gibbs  on  "Responsibility" 

plained  that  he  was  induced  to  let  the  man  have  his 
way  in  the  hope  of  providing  his  patrons  with  some- 
thing new  in  the  way  of  entertainment,  the  smiling 
street-musician  stepped  forward  and  in  an  excellent  imi- 
tation of  an  Italian  speaking  broken  English,  told  his 
now  thoroughly  expectant  audience  that  he  was  sorry 
he  had  to  leave  his  organ  outside,  —  that,  he  thought, 
would  have  amused  them  more,  but  there  was  a  little 
song  they  sang  in  his  country  he  would  like  them  to 
hear;  and  began  without  more  ado  to  sing.  It  was  a 
very  beautiful  song,  and  the  singer's  voice  a  marvel 
of  expression  and  sweetness ;  and  when  the  last  chords 
of  the  accompaniment  which  the  green-coated  band  had 
played  throughout  had  ceased,  the  people  understood, 
those  who  understood  music  at  all,  that  thpy  had  been 
privileged  to  hear  a  performance  of  no  ordinary  merit 
but  of  unusual  quality,  and  the  applause  was  instan- 
taneous and  prolonged. 

"  He  could  beat  the  angel  Israfel  at  his  own  game," 
said  Verney,  as  the  singer  nodding  and  smiling  came 
down  from  the  platform  and  began  to  pass  his  hat, 
"  but  for  all  that  I  don't  believe  he 's  any  organ- 
grinder;  it's  one  of  Antoni's  put-up  jobs."  Antoni 
was  the  proprietor  of  the  restaurant. 

"You  mean  you  think  it's  a  fake?"  said  his  uncle. 

"  Yes.  Did  n't  you  notice  his  hands  ?  They  were 
as  white  as  a  woman's,  and  you  '11  observe  that  he  did  n't 
keep  the  money  he  collected,  but  passed  it  over  to 
Antoni  there." 

"  I  believe  you  're  right,"  commented  Mrs.  Ordway. 
[135] 


The  Politician 

"  Street  musicians  don't  usually   wear  diamond  rings,! 
and  he  had  one  on  his  little  finger." 

"  Oh,  there  's  no  doubt  about  it,"  said  Verney ;  "  it '» 
just  one  of  Antoni's  little  schemes  to  draw  the  crowd. 
You  see  if  it  is  n't ! " 

And  a  paragraph  in  the  paper  the  next  morning 
proved  the  truth  of  his  surmise  and  acquainted  the 
world  at  large  with  the  fact  that  Antoni  had  surprised 
his  patrons  again,  and  that  a  more  or  less  well-known 
concert  singer  had  consented  for  a  "  consideration  " 
to  disguise  himself  as  an  organ-grinder  and  give  the 
diners  in  the  restaurant  one  song. 

It  was  toward  the  end  of  the  little  stir  of  excite- 
ment attendant  upon  this  incident  that  three  persons, 
a  woman  and  two  men,  came  in  and  seated  themselves  at 
the  vacant  table  just  to  the  left  of  Mrs.  Ordway's 
party.  As  they  took  their  places,  Harriet  was  aware 
that  she  had  seen  the  woman  before;  that  faultless 
figure  and  pale  gold  hair  were  certainly  familiar,  like- 
wise the  deliberate  stare  of  the  fine  dark  eyes.  It  was 
only  a  moment,  however,  before  she  recognized  her. 
"It's  'Cora'!"  she  thought,  realizing  that  the 
woman  at  the  other  table  was  the  same  whom  she  had 
seen  with  Verney  that  evening  at  the  theatre  a  night 
or  two  after  her  arrival  in  New  York. 

"There's  Mrs.  Willie  Gibbs,"  said  Ellis  at  that 
moment,  nodding  and  smiling  at  the  people  who  had 
just  come  in. 

"  With  Mr.  Gibbs,"  said  Mrs.  Ordway,  "  wonder  of 
wonders !  "  bowing  and  smiling  too. 

[136] 


Mrs.  Gibbs  on  "Responsibility" 

"  Oh,  well,  Stevie  Cass  is  with  her  too,"  said  Mr. 
Vernor;  "don't  forget  that!" 

"  And  Stevie  is  a  nice  boy,"  said  Ellis,  pleasantly, 
"  and  amusing  too.  And  you  know  how  amusing  Wil- 
liam M.  Gibbs,  bank  president,  is ! " 

Everybody  laughed. 

"  Not  that  he  is  n't  a  very  good  sort,"  added  Verney 
hastily,  for  fear  he  might  be  misunderstood  to  be 
"  knocking  "  a  friend  of  his ;  for  he  really  liked  Mr. 
Gibbs;  then  he  lost  interest  apparently  in  the  subject 
and  in  the  next  table,  and  devoted  himself  to  Harriet. 
This  he  did  so  successfully  that  she  forgot  all  about 
the  troubled  feeling  she  had  had  at  sight  of  the  irre- 
sistible "  Mrs.  Willie,"  and  glowed  and  laughed  and 
was  so  obviously  interested  in  what  the  young  man 
was  saying,  that  Mrs.  Ordway  and  Richmond  Vernor 
exchanged  significant  glances  once  or  twice  in  the  midst 
of  their  own  equable  and  intelligent  conversation,  and 
green  flame  shot  from  the  hazel  eyes  of  Mrs.  Willie 
Gibbs  at  the  sight,  and  poor  Stevie  Cass  was  unable 
to  please  her  in  any  way  he  tried. 

In  a  handsome  apartment  building  on  Madison 
Avenue  near  Fifty-sixth  Street,  a  few  evenings  later, 
the  beautiful  Mrs.  Gibbs  sat  in  an  attitude  of  expec- 
tancy. Her  husband  had  gone  to  one  of  the  numerous 
banquets  which,  as  president  of  the  New  York  Associa- 
tion of  Bankers,  he  was  obliged  to  attend,  and  she  was 
free  to  spend  her  evening  as  she  chose.  That  she 
to  spend  it  in  talking  with  a  young  and  unat- 
[137] 


The  Politician 

tached  bachelor  some  five  years  her  junior  was,  she 
thought,  no  concern  of  Mr.  Gibbs;  and  Mr.  Gibbs 
thought  so  too;  but  his  opinion  on  the  subject  was  like 
a  taste  for  Hokusai, —  a  matter  of  education,  the  re- 
sult of  a  gentle  course  of  training  through  which  his 
wife  had  put  him. 

So  finished  a  process  was  this  training  that  the  hard- 
working, money-making  banker  had  come  to  the  con- 
clusion that  it  was  his  own  original  idea  that  a  married 
woman  should  have  all  the  liberty  she  wanted,  and  that 
as  long  as  his  wife  was  amused  he  did  not  at  all  care 
who  amused  her.  If  he  had  ceased  to  be  able  to  amuse 
her  himself,  that  was  his  own  fault  —  a  very  broad- 
minded  and  unprejudiced  theory,  but  not  one  that  Mrs. 
Gibbs  would  have  permitted  him  to  apply  to  his  own 
case.  For  him  to  have  attempted  to  seek  distraction 
beyond  the  confines  of  his  own  hearthstone  would  in- 
stantly have  brought  the  roof  about  his  ears.  For  it 
just  happened  to  be  true,  in  spite  of  her  fondness 
for  flirtation,  that  young  Mrs.  Gibbs  loved  her  elderly 
husband.  Perhaps,  too,  his  confidence  in  this  fact  was 
the  secret  of  his  docility  in  the  matter  of  permitting 
her  to  amuse  herself  with  other  men.  If,  however,  he 
had  been  so  foolish  as  to  indulge  in  jealousy,  of  all  the 
young  men  who  took  pleasure  in  the  society  of  his  hand- 
some wife,  James  Vernor  Ellis  would  have  been  the 
one  to  arouse  the  emotion. 

The  two,  Mrs.  Gibbs  and  the  young  man,  had  known 
each  other  since  their  school-days,  and  had  always  had 
the  warmest  kind  of  friendship,  which  at  times  hovered, 

[138] 


Mrs.  Gibbs  on  "Responsibility" 

dangerously  or  delightfully,  as  you  choose,  near  the 
borderland  of  flirtation,  and  in  their  very  young  days 
had  come  pretty  close  to  being  a  love  affair.  Even 
as  recently  as  the  day  when  Mrs.  Gibbs,  as  Miss  Cora 
Keator,  had  told  her  friend  of  her  engagement  to  the 
elderly  banker,  it  was  in  the  nature  of  a  blow  to  Ellis's 
young  affections.  But  when  with  grieved  lips  and  a 
hurt  look  in  his  eyes,  he  had  told  her  so,  Miss  Keator 
had  only  laughed  and  rubbed  his  hair  the  wrong  way  — 
a  thing  Verney  particularly  disliked  and  had  always  re- 
fused to  let  her  do  —  and  called  him  "  a  funny  boy  " ; 
and  then  with  cruel  kindness  had  analyzed  his  true  feel- 
ings in  the  matter  with  a  penetration  that  was  not  to  be 
denied,  and  showed  him  that  the  last  thing  in  the  world 
he  really  wished  was  to  marry  a  woman  five  years  older 
than  himself.  After  the  wedding  she  had  spent  a  year 
abroad,  during  the  first  part  of  which  Verney  hardly  had 
felt  able  to  smile;  but  later  on  had  come  to  realize  that 
life  was  worth  living  even  though  Cora  Keator  was 
married;  and  by  the  time  she  and  her  husband  had 
returned,  he  had  so  far  recovered  his  usual  equanimity 
that  he  had  been  the  first  person  to  greet  them  at  the 
dock.  Since  when  he  had  adapted  himself  to  the  new 
basis  of  friendship  with  the  greatest  cheerfulness  and  had 
been  almost  as  devoted  to  the  fascinating  Cora  as  ever. 
Her  marriage,  he  found,  made  no  difference  at  all  in 
her  fondness  for  his  society ;  and  Mr.  Gibbs  was  such 
a  good  sort  he  seemed  rather  to  encourage  Verney  to 
see  his  wife  than  otherwise. 

Cora  Gibbs,  for  her  part,  had  accepted  the  young 
[139] 


The  Politician 

man's  devotion  with  equal  satisfaction,  though  not  in 
quite  the  same  spirit.  Womanlike,  she  was  unable  alto- 
gether to  forget  that  there  had  been  a  time  when  things 
were  different,  when  he  cherished  a  warmer  sentiment 
for  her  than  mere  friendship ;  and  while  she  did  not 
actually  desire  a  conflagration,  she  was  still  anxious  at 
least  to  keep  the  old  fire  lit. 

The  idea,  then,  that  Verney  was  paying  attention 
to  Harriet  Rand,  was  perhaps  in  love  with  her  —  which 
his  absorption  in  her  the  other  evening  at  the  restaurant, 
a  laughing  word  to  that  effect  from  Mrs.  Ordway, 
and  her  own  jealous  fears  all  led  her  to  entertain  —  was 
extremely  distasteful  to  her.  She  could  n't  marry  him 
herself  certainly,  and  she  would  n't  have  wished  to  if 
it  had  been  possible ;  nevertheless  she  did  not  want  any 
other  woman  to  marry  him.  In  a  word,  she  was  just 
fond  enough  of  him  not  to  be  able  to  imagine  her  world 
without  Verney  in  it,  and  would  have  gone  far  to  pre- 
vent its  becoming  so ;  for  although  sufficiently  generous 
in  other  matters,  she  did  n't  care  in  the  least  how  sel- 
fish she  was  about  this  particular  young  man,  whose 
homage  she  had  allowed  to  become  indispensable  to  her 
happiness. 

The  truth  was  that  Cora  Gibbs  belonged  to  that 
dog-in-the-manger  class  of  married  women  who  think 
nothing  of  binding  a  young  bachelor  to  them  by  every 
art  known  to  their  sex,  and  then  proceeding  to  make 
it  their  life's  business  to  keep  him  from  marrying, 
although  they  have  themselves  exercised  that  preroga- 
tive. This  act  of  concentrated  selfishness  they  disguise 

[140] 


Mrs.  Gibbs  on  "Responsibility" 

under  a  professed  interest  in  the  welfare  of  the  victim, 
urging  upon  him  the  inexpediency  of  marrying  too 
young  and  by  interfering  here  and  advising  there, 
generally  succeed  in  tiding  him  along  until  the  habit 
of  bachelorhood  becomes  fixed  upon  him  and  he  learns 
to  look  only  to  his  worst  enemy  for  all  his  joy. 

It  was  on  account  of  this  selfish  side  of  Mrs.  Gibbs's 
friendship  for  Verney  that  she  found  the  thought  that 
he  was  on  the  point  of  breaking  his  chains  so  very  hard 
rto  bear;  for  if  her  friendship  had  been  of  the  right 
kind,  she  would  have  rejoiced  in  the  event  of  his  mar- 
rying happily.  Her  feeling  of  surprise  that  he  had 
not  at  least  confided  in  her  regarding  this  recent  fancy 
of  his  added  also  to  her  disturbed  state  of  mind.  But 
this  was  because  she  did  not  really  know  Ellis  so  well 
as  she  believed  she  did.  She  would  have  said,  if  any 
one  had  asked  her,  that  so  strong  was  the  bond  between 
them  there  was  no  thought  the  young  man  had  of  which 
she  was  not  aware,  and  that  he  confided  in  her  about 
everything.  But  she  was  mistaken.  No  woman  ever 
really  knows  a  man  any  more  than  any  man  ever  really 
knows  a  woman ;  and  Mrs.  Gibbs,  in  supposing  that  Ver- 
ney Ellis  was  hers  to  do  with  as  she  would,  was  only 
making  the  same  mistake  which  any  other  woman  no  less 
intelligent  would  have  made  under  the  same  circum- 
stances. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  Ellis  was  not  at  all  the  kind  of 
man  to  fall  a  victim  to  the  selfishness  of  the  young 
married  woman.  He  had  far  too  much  character,  and 
the  reason  he  didn't  tell  her  all  his  secrets  was  not 

[141] 


The  Politician 

that  he  did  n't  have  any  to  tell,  but  because  they  had 
nothing  to  do  with  her. 

It  was  nearly  nine,  and  the  beautiful  Cora  looked 
very  impatiently  at  the  clock.  Verney  was  late,  just 
when  she  was  most  anxious  to  see  him;  for  she  meant 
to  find  out  that  very  evening  if  there  was  any  truth 
in  Mrs.  Ordway's  gossip  about  the  young  man  and 
the  Chicago  heiress.  She  made  a  very  pretty  picture 
with  her  yellow  gown,  white  skin,  and  sparkling  hair, 
and  Verney  arriving  a  moment  later  did  not  miss  a 
detail  of  it. 

"  I  thought  you  were  never  coming ! "  said  she,  rising 
to  greet  him  and  displaying  her  beautiful  figure  to 
much  advantage  in  the  act. 

"  I  'm  awfully  sorry,  Cora ! "  said  Ellis,  taking  both 
the  hands  she  gave  him  in  graceful  welcome  and  hold- 
ing them  for  a  moment ;  "  but  I  could  n't  get  here 
earlier.  I  'm  so  busy  these  weeks  before  the  conven- 
tion I  really  should  not  have  come  at  all."  A  harassed 
expression  passed  over  his  face. 

"  Never  mind,  as  long  as  you  've  come,"  returned 
the  young  married  woman ;  "  I  waited  dinner  a  little 
while  for  you,  it 's  true,  but  it  does  n't  matter  a  bit. 
Willie  is  the  only  person  who  minds  when  dinner  is  late, 
and  he  's  dining  out  to-night." 

"  You  must  n't  ask  me  again,"  said  Ellis  earnestly ; 
"  it 's  no  use.  I  can  never  make  it,  and  it  only  puts 
you  out." 

"  Not  in  the  least,"  replied  Mrs.  Gibbs  tranquilly, 
"  and  we  '11  have  some  of  it  together  anyhow."  She 

[142] 


Mrs.  Gibbs  on  "Responsibility" 

laughed,  pressed  an  electric  button,  and  on  the  appear- 
ance of  the  butler  asked  him  to  bring  whiskey  and 
soda. 

Verney  selected  a  low  chair  very  near  her  and  sat 
down.  He  knew  he  was  going  to  enjoy  the  evening 
although  he  knew  equally  well  that  he  should  not  spend 
it  in  that  way,  that  the  "  Cause "  was  calling  him ; 
for  his  friend  Ordway  was  not  by  any  means  so  strong 
a  possibility  for  the  nomination  as  he  would  have  liked 
to  have  him.  But  after  all,  why  not?  He  wasn't  a 
slave ;  the  laborer  was  worthy  of  his  hire,  and  he  hao? 
a  right  to  take  an  evening  off  once  in  a  while.  And 
Mrs.  Willie  Gibbs  was  such  good  company!  In  her 
society  he  felt  such  a  delightful  sense  of  security,  that 
he  might  say  anything  he  chose,  and  his  friend  would 
understand.  And  he  knew  also  —  and  expected  much 
entertainment  from  the  fact,  that  there  was  nothing 
Mrs.  Gibbs,  smart,  sophisticated,  and  worldly-wise, 
dared  not  say.  Also  that  she  was  at  her  daringest  with 
him. 

"  Tell  me  something  new,"  he  said,  sipping  his 
whiskey  contentedly  and  glancing  at  the  evening  paper 
she  had  laid  down  to  greet  him ;  "  I  have  n't  read  the 
paper  yet,  I  've  been  too  busy." 

"  In  other  words  '  Amuse  me,  slave  '  ?  "  laughed  Mrs. 
Gibbs. 

"  That 's  what  I  came  for,"  he  acknowledged. 

"  Well,  there  's  nothing  amusing  in  the  paper,"  she 
told  him ;  "  not  a  thing  in  it,  except  that  hogs  are  de- 
clining again !  Disagreeable,  rude  things !  I  can't  see 

[143] 


The  Politician 

why    they    should    be    so    exclusive,    can    you  ? "     She 
laughed  at  her  own  conceit  and  Ellis  joined  her. 

"  Oh,  well,"  he  said,  "  gossip  then !  Who  's  going  to 
get  divorced  from  whom?  " 

"Implying  that  I'm  well  up  in  scandal?  It's  too 
bad  of  you,  Verney ;  you  're  always  accusing  me  of  that, 
and  really,  I  don't  gossip  a  bit." 

"  Not  a  bit  —  only  a  whole  lot,"  returned  Ellis  cheer- 
full}'  ;  "  but  I  was  n't  criticising,  Cora,  you  know  that." 

"  You  'd  better  not !  But  by  the  way,  have  you  heard 
about  Roily  Bristed?" 

"  No,  what?     I  said  I  had  n't  read  the  papers." 

"  He  's  embezzled,  speculated  with  the  firm's  money, 
and  lost  it.  A  cousin  of  mine  who  is  an  intimate  friend 
of  Mrs.  Holly's,  told  me.  It 's  not  in  the  papers  yet." 

"  Though  it  will  be  before  long  if  you  have  any- 
thing to  say  about  it!  But  you  don't  really  tell  me 
Roily  's  done  a  thing  like  that,  really  gone  to  smash 
in  that  fashion  ?  " 

"  Yes,  he  's  absolutely  down  and  out,  safe  out  of  the 
country,  as  it  happens.  But  the  disgrace,  think  of  it !  " 

"  You  don't  say  so !  Poor  fellow,  I  am  sorry  for 
him.  And  for  his  wife,  too."  Verney  spoke  with  feel- 
ing. He  knew  the  popular,  likable  young  broker  well. 
"  How  'd  he  happen  to  get  so  hard  up  ?  I  knew  he 
spent  a  lot,  but  then  I  thought  he  had  it  to  spend." 

"  Oh,  the  usual  thing ! "  replied  Mrs.  Gibbs  non- 
chalantly, "  fast  women  and  slow  horses !  " 

Ellis  laughed. 

[144.] 


Mrs.  Gibbs  on  "Responsibility" 

"  I  guess  that 's  summing  up  the  case  a  little ! "  he 
said.  "  Poor  Roily !  " 

Mrs.  Gibbs  played  with  her  empty  glass  thought- 
fully. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  "  it  is  sad.  One  more  good  sport 
gone.  But  for  all  that,  it  happens  to  be  the  only  thing 
that 's  new  to  discuss  !  " 

"  Excepting  you.  You  're  always  new.  Let 's  talk 
about  you." 

"  I  'd  like  to,  but  as  a  subject  for  conversation  I  'm 
nothing  to  talk  about !  " 

"  That 's  a  pity,"  Verney  said,  "  because  I  can't  think 
of  a  better  one.  You  won't  let  me  talk  about  me,  you 
know,"  he  added  whimsically. 

That  was  true.  Mrs.  Gibbs  in  the  "  I  'm-older-than- 
you-little-boy  "  attitude  which  she  had  chosen  to  assume 
toward  this  one  of  her  many  admirers  —  a  dangerous 
attitude,  by  the  way,  in  spite  of  the  five  years*  differ- 
ence in  their  ages,  when  indulged  in  by  so  fascinating 
a  woman  as  she  was,  toward  so  fascinating  a  man  as 
Verney  Ellis  —  had  long  ago  forbidden  him  to  talk  poli- 
tics to  her.  She  pretended  the  subject  bored  her,  and 
even  went  so  far  as  to  poke  fun  at  Verney's  ambitions 
for  political  reform,  taunting  him  with  having  caught 
the  "  new  blood  in  politics  "  fever,  as  she  called  it,  and 
refusing  to  take  him  seriously  at  all.  And  Verney  liked 
it  from  her,  and  was  glad  she  did  n't  talk  about  his 
work  to  him,  just  as  he  was  glad  that  Harriet  Rand 
did.  It  seldom  follows  that  because  a  man  likes  a  thing 
™  [  145  ] 


The  Politician 

in  one  woman  he  likes  it  in  all  the  others  he  knows.  So 
he  let  Mrs.  Gibbs  jeer  at  him  and  his  ambitions  to  her 
heart's  content. 

"  Don't  go,"  she  said,  as  the  young  man  after  an 
hour  of  idle,  intimate,  delightful  talk,  reluctantly 
pleaded  the  necessity  for  his  departure ;  "  you  have  n't 
stayed  a  moment." 

She  leaned  forward  over  the  table  toward  him,  her 
bright  hazel  eyes  fixed  upon  him  under  their  blue-veined 
lids. 

Ellis  hesitated,  his  glance  unconsciously  returning 
the  fire  of  hers,  but  he  spoke  resolutely. 

"  I  must,"  he  said.  "  I  have  an  appointment  to  meet 
a  man  at  ten  o'clock." 

"  I  know  who  it  is. —  it 's  that  old  Cash  Connolly 
you  're  always  talking  so  much  about ! " 

Verney  laughed. 

"How  did  you  know?"  he  said.  For  it  happened 
that  Mrs.  Gibbs's  surmise  was  correct.  Cash  Connolly, 
a  prominent  District  leader,  was  the  man  he  was  going 
to  see,  for  Connolly  had  promised  to  talk  with  him  about 
the  possibility  of  swinging  the  Eighth  District,  of 
which  he  was  supreme  dictator,  for  Ordway,  at  the  com- 
ing convention. 

In  previous  talks  Verney  had  been  so  eloquent  in 
pointing  out  the  advantages  that  would  accrue  to  the 
Eighth  and  to  its  leader  personally,  should  Ordway  be 
established  as  the  next  Governor,  that  already  the 
shrewd  Irishman  had  committed  himself  so  far  as  to 

[146] 


Mrs.  Gibbs  on  "Responsibility" 

say  "  almost  thou  persuadest  me,"  and  Verney  was  hop- 
ing great  things  from  the  present  interview. 

"  Really,"  his  hostess  added,  "  I  'm  quite  jealous  of 
that  man ! " 

Verney  rose.  "  You  need  n't  be,"  he  said ;  "  you 
know  that  as  far  as  mere  pleasure  is  concerned,  I  'd 
much  rather  stay  here." 

"  That 's  why  you  go,  I  suppose,"  said  Mrs.  Gibbs ; 
and  then,  suddenly  and  impulsively,  "  don't  go  —  yet. 
Stay  just  a  moment  until  —  until — "  She  stopped 
—  they  were  both  standing  now. —  and  brushed  a  trace 
of  cigarette  ash  from  his  sleeve,  then  let  her  hand,  as- 
if  inadvertently,  remain  on  his  arm. 

Ellis  bit  his  lip  hard,  but  betrayed  no  disquiet  at 
her  touch. 

"  Until  what?  "  he  asked. 

"  Willie  said  he  was  coming  back  from  his  banquet 
early,"  she  said,  removing  her  hand.  "  I  told  him  if 
he  would  bring  some  one  home  with  him  I  'd  try  and  keep 
you  for  some  bridge." 

She  spoke  hesitatingly,  her  eyes  on  the  floor. 

Verney  felt  that  she  had  not  said  what  she  had  been 
going  to  say.  Her  plans  for  his  entertainment  did  not 
usually  include  Willie. 

"  Would  n't  that  be  bully ! "  he  said,  ironically. 
"  Now,  what  were  you  really  going  to  say  ?  " 

Cora  Gibbs  laughed  mischievously,  a  very  devil  of 
impudence  of  a  sudden  in  her  eyes.  "  I  was  going  to 
say,"  she  said,  "  don't  go  until  you  've  told  me  whether 

[147] 


The  Politician 

you  're  in  love  with  that  Miss  Rand  from  Chicago  you 
were  having  such  a  good  time  with  at  Antoni's,  the  other 
evening." 

Verney's  face  assumed  its  most  reserved  expression. 

"What  if  lam?"  he  said. 

"  Nothing,"  she  replied ;  "  only  I  thought  if  you  had 
really  done  anything  so  exciting  as  to  fall  in  love,  you 
ought  to  tell  me  about  it !  What 's  the  use  of  being 
old  friends  if  we  don't  tell  each  other  things  ?  "  She 
looked  up  at  him  with  innocent  eyes. 

Verney  sat  down  again  slowly,  and  Cora,  inwardly 
triumphing  that  she  had  kept  him  —  though  the  means 
was  not  to  her  taste  —  sat  down  also. 

"  What  makes  you  think  I  'm  in  love  with  her?  "  he 
asked,  beginning  to  select  with  much  deliberation  a 
cigarette  from  the  box  on  the  table. 

"  Oh,  because  you  're  so  cross  when  I  mention  her 
name.  Men  are  always  cross  when  they  're  in  love !  " 

"  Surely  some  other  reason?  " 

"  Yes,  besides  that,  Carol  told  me  that  you  wrote  to 
each  other  all  the  time  when  Miss  Rand  was  in  Chi- 
cago." 

"Carol!"  ejaculated  Verney,  roused  to  indignation 
by  this  evidence  of  spying  on  the  part  of  his  younger 
sister.  "  What  on  earth  should  she  know  about  my 
affairs?  Little  fool!" 

Mrs.  Gibbs  screamed  with  laughter,  although  it  was 
a  very  pretty  scream. 

"  There,  now,  I  'm  sure  of  it,"  she  crowed ;  "  or  you 
[148] 


Mrs.  Gibbs  on  "Responsibility" 

would  n't  get  so  angry.     Where  there  's  so  much  smoke, 
there  must  be  some  fire !  " 

Verney  found  the  particular  cigarette  he  seemed  to 
have  been  looking  for,  and  put  it  between  his  lips,  un- 
lighted. 

"  I  'm  not  in  love,  just  the  same,"  he  said,  "  with  Miss 
Rand,"  he  had  difficulty  in  saying  the  name,  "  or  any 
one  else.  You  ought  to  know  that.  For  the  reason 
that  I  have  told  you  more  than  once  —  that  I  don't 
intend  ever  to  marry.  And  I  don't  intend  to  marry  be- 
cause I  can't  do  that  and  keep  in  politics  too.  The  de- 
mands made  upon  a  man's  time  if  he  goes  in  for  public 
life  necessitate  his  giving  up  marriage  altogether  or  neg- 
lecting his  wife  —  and  I  'd  rather  give  up  marriage." 

"  Rather  than  your  career?  You  prefer  fame  to 
love?" 

"  If  you  want  to  call  something  you  think  you  ought 
to  do  a  '  career,'  yes." 

"  Something  you  think  you  ought  to  do?  How  do 
you  mean  ?  " 

"  I  mean  I  think  it 's  a  duty  to  try  and  improve  pres- 
ent day  politics  which  are  admittedly  in  a  bad  condi- 
tion, are  corrupt  and  impure,  and  that  if  I  do  what  I 
can  to  accomplish  that  object  I  can  be  of  service  to 
the  country."  He  spoke  simply,  as  if  patriotism  were 
the  virtue  commonest  to  man,  and  looked  at  her  as  if  he 
expected  her  to  take  as  a  matter  of  course  his  having 
it  to  such  a  degree.  But  she  did  n't,  she  could  n't  begin 
to  understand  an  ambition  so  high  and  disinterested. 

[149] 


„     I 


The  Politician 

"  So  you  're  not  going  to  marry  ?  "  she  repeated  won- 
deringly. 

"  No.' 

"Never?" 

'*  As  far  as  I  know.  That  is,  if  the  present  circum- 
stances of  my  life  remain  the  same." 

"  Never  is  a  hard  word." 

"And  human  resolution  reputedly  weak?"  He 
smiled. 

"  Yes,"  she  said  seriously. 

And  "  yes  "  he  agreed,  serious  himself. 

"  Then  you  admit  there  is  a  chance  of  your  marrying 
after  all?  " 

"  If  you  insist.  About  as  much  as  that  I  shall  wake 
suddenly  and  find  myself  President  instead  of  a  hardly 
known  politician  at  the  beginning  of  his  career,  or  that 
somebody  will  leave  me  a  million  !  " 

She  laughed. 

"  Such  satire ! "  she  said ;  "  yet  after  all  neither 
of  those  things  is  impossible.  They  really  might  hap- 
pen!" 

"  Before  I  die,  perhaps." 

The  indifference  of  his  tone  did  not  escape  her. 

"  And  you  're  not  wildly  interested  in  your  old  age, 
are  you,  Verney,"  she  said,  understanding  suddenly 
that  to  this  intensely  ambitious,  energetic  young  man, 
the  present  was  his  whole  life. 

He  shook  his  head. 

"  Not  now,"  he  asserted. 

[150] 


Mrs.  Gibbs  on  "Responsibility*5 

There  was  a  pause,  then  she  said  musingly, 

"  It  seems  very  hard,  just  the  same,  for  a  man  as 
young  as  you  are  deliberately  to  plan  to  give  up  marry- 
ing! Isn't  that  sacrificing  too  much?" 

She  had  spoken  her  true  thought  before  she  realized 
that  in  urging  the  Politician  to  marry  she  was  doing 
just  what  she  had  intended  not  to  do. 

"  It  is  hard,"  said  Ellis  thoughtfully.  "But  then," 
he  added  more  lightly,  "  if  a  man  will  insist  on  having 
an  ambition  he  should  be  willing  to  sacrifice  something 
for  it." 

"  Even  a  woman?  "  she  asked,  with  peculiar  signifi- 
cance. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  he  demanded,  puzzled  by  her 
tone. 

"  Nothing  to  be  short  about,  nothing  very  serious," 
she  replied,  settling  back  in  her  chair  as  if  in  prepara- 
tion for  a  long  talk  and  observing  with  satisfaction 
that  Verney  had  laid  aside  his  cane  and  put  down  his 
cigarette.  "  I  only  meant  that  if  that 's  the  case,  if 
those  are  really  your  principles,  you  should  be  very  care- 
ful indeed  about  your  attitude  toward  women  —  the 
unmarried  ones  I  mean !  "  She  laughed. 

He  smiled  too  at  her  distinction  in  favor  of  married 
women,  of  which  he  had  always  been  aware,  though  his 
mind  was  too  much  occupied  with  trying  to  under- 
stand what  she  was  getting  at,  to  make  his  amusement 
more  than  transitory. 

"  I  'm  still  in  the  dark,"  he  said. 
[151] 


The  Politician 

"  About  not  letting  them  think  you  mean  to  marry 
them,"  said  Mrs.  Gibbs. 

Verney  stared  at  her  a  full  half-minute;  it  took  that 
long  for  him  to  grasp  her  idea.  Then  he  laughed  de- 
risively. 

"  How  foolish !  As  if  they  ever  thought  any  such 
thing!  I  give  them  credit  for  more  sense.  The  girls 
I  know,  at  least.  As  for  going  around  telling  myself 
to  be  careful  or  some  one  will  fall  in  love  with  me,  why 
that 's  plain  ridiculous.  I  'm  not  such  a  conceited  ass, 
I  hope." 

"  But  you  should,"  she  said  calmly ;  "  you  should  do 
just  that  thing.  Every  man  in  the  world  that's  worth 
looking  at  has  that  responsibility  to  face.  If  you 
don't  know  that,  it 's  time  you  did.  You  're  not  a  boy 
any  longer,  Verney." 

She  spoke  kindly  and  very  sweetly,  with  an  apparently 
disinterested  friendship  that  was  surprising,  unless  of 
course  she  happened  to  have  reasons  of  her  own  for  not 
wishing  him  to  remain  longer  in  ignorance  of  his  re- 
sponsibility —  unless  she  thought  that  to  open  his  eyes 
to  it  now,  would  be  to  check  his  fondness  for  Harriet 
Rand's  society  before  he  had  gone  so  far  as  to  fall 
in  love  with  her.  Mrs.  Gibbs,  it  must  be  understood,  did 
.not  believe  that  Verney  would  be  able  to  keep  his  reso- 
lution not  to  marry  if  he  should  ever  really  fall  in 
love.  But  her  words  made  no  impression  on  the  young 
man. 

"  I  don't  believe  it  a  minute,"  he  said  impatiently,  al- 
most disgustedly.  "  Why  have  n't  I  ever  heard  about 

[152] 


Mrs.  Gibbs  on  "Responsibility" 

it  before,  about  this  '  responsibility  '  business,  if  there 's 
really  anything  in  it?  " 

"  Because,  my  dear  boy,  you  're  unusually  lacking  in 
the  vanity  of  your  kind,"  returned  his  self-appointed 
instructress.  "  If  you  were  not,  you  could  n't  help 
seeing  it.  The  more  attractive  a  man  is,  the  greater 
his  responsibility,  and  you  're  very  attractive,  Verney." 

He  made  a  gesture  of  irritation. 

"  Well,  I  am  not  wall-eyed  or  half-witted,  if  you  mean 
that,"  he  said.  "  but  I  must  say  I  've  never  thought  I 
had  the  fatal  gift  exactly." 

"  Marvellous  !  Wonderful !  "  said  Mrs.  Gibbs  under 
her  breath.  "  Unique,  absolutely  unique  in  my  ex- 
perience of  men  !  "  Then  aloud,  "  You  ought  to  be  put 
in  a  museum,  then,  as  the  only  living  example  of  a  man 
without  any  egotism." 

"  You  can  make  fun  all  you  like,"  answered  Verney, 
indifferently.  "  The  fact  remains  that  I  don't  take 
any  stock  at  all  in  your  extraordinary  theory !  What 
did  I  do  with  my  cane  ?  "  He  rose  to  go. 

"  It 's  true,  though,  and  you  '11  understand  it  some 
day,  I  predict.  Where  are  you  off  to  now?  To  serve 
your  country  ?  " 

"  To  see  Connolly,  as  I  told  you,"  he  replied  shortly, 
nettled  by  her  mocking  manner.     "  I  'm  so   late  now 
I  '11  have  to  work  all  night,  probably,  to  finish  what* 
I  've  got  to  do !  " 

"  All  right,  General  Grant ! "  she  said,  laughingly, 
and  saluted  the  young  man  in  pretended  homage,  "  only 
don't  take  my  head  off  about  it,  will  you?  It  shall 

[153] 


The  Politician 

serve  its  country,  as  much  as  ever  it  likes.  So  there 
now ! " 

And  Verney,  realizing  at  once  that  it  was  a  waste  of 
time  to  try  to  talk  seriously  of  his  work  to  this  irritat- 
ing witch,  laughed  with  her,  although  he  knew  it  was 
at  himself. 

"  That 's  a  good  boy ! "  said  the  witch  approvingly. 
"  Don't  wait  too  long  before  you  come  again ! "  and 
she  smiled  her  brightest  at  him  as  they  parted. 

But  when  the  door  had  closed  behind  him  her  smile 
vanished,  and  the  brow  of  the  beautiful  Mrs.  Gibbs 
grew  dark,  and  her  expression  very  thoughtful.  She 
sat  down  and  leaned  her  head  on  her  hand. 

"  He  did  n't  like  my  asking  him  if  he  was  in  love 
with  the  girl ! "  she  said  aloud,  "  and  he  flushed  when 
he  spoke  her  name."  She  paused  in  her  meditations,  got 
up  and  walked  restlessly  around  the  room. 

"  I  wonder  if  Agnes  Ordway  was  right,"  she  said, 
"  I  wonder  if  she  was  right ! " 


[154] 


CHAPTER  IX 

TEMPTATION 

IT  was  almost  six  of  an  afternoon  not  many  days 
later,  and  although  stenographers  and  clerks  had 
long  ago  gone  home,  Verney  was  still  sitting  at 
his  desk  in  his  office  in  Nassau  Street.  He  had  a  slip 
of  paper  in  his  hand,  and  seemed  to  scrutinize  it  as  if  he 
could  not  look  at  it  long  enough.  There  was  n't  much 
on  it,  the  slip  of  paper  —  only  a  few  figures,  but  it 
seemed  to  have  the  power  to  give  pain ;  for  as  he  gazed, 
Ellis's  smooth  face,  which  was  already  pale  and"  weary, 
grew  drawn,  and  he  caught  his  under  lip  in  his  teeth 
with  a  cruel  grip.  Only  a  few  figures  stating  the  young 
man's  liabilities  and  assets,  but  they  stood  for  great 
anxiety  and  distress  of  mind ;  for  upon  investigating  his 
exact  financial  standing  he  was  shocked  to  find  how 
much  in  excess  of  the  latter  the  former  were. 

He  had  been  worrying  about  his  affairs  for  some 
time  past,  but  the  situation  as  disclosed  to  him  that 
afternoon  was  worse  than  he  had  pictured  it  could  be 
in  his  most  pessimistic  moments.  His  accounts  were 
alarmingly  short  on  the  credit  side  and  alarmingly 
long  on  the  debit  side,  and  the  list  of  outstanding  obliga- 
tion to  be  met  was  appalling.  He  groaned  in  looking 
it  over  for  the  second  time,  and  smiled  a  little  bitterly, 

[155] 


The  Politician 

for  most  of  the  items  were  mementos  of  expenses  in- 
curred in  putting  through  some  reform  measure  in  his 
district,  or  in  connection  with  some  campaign.  The 
perfectly  legitimate  expenses  incidental  to  running  a 
political  campaign  are  enormous,  and  if  they  were  listed 
for  the  benefit  of  any  one  not  familiar  with  the  facts, 
would  hardly  seem  credible ;  and  Ellis,  who  never  spared 
expense  where  a  principle  was  to  be  upheld,  and  never 
let  lack  of  funds  prevent  him  from  carrying  out  any 
scheme  he  was  interested  in,  had  been  in  the  habit  of 
putting  his  hand  into  his  own  pocket  whenever  the 
funds  appropriated  for  the  scheme  ran  low,  as  they 
very  frequently  did. 

It  was  an  ambition  with  him  never,  if  he  could  help 
it,  to  let  a  good  man  lose  an  office  for  want  of  financial 
backing;  and  whenever  a  contingency  arose  which  de- 
manded that  more  money  be  spent  or  the  battle  lost, 
he  spent  the  money,  though  it  meant  going  without 
the  luxuries  of  life,  if  not  the  necessities.  As  his 
principles  would  not  permit  him  to  take  advantage  of 
his  chances  to  graft,  and  as  the  time  he  spent  in  the 
pursuit  of  politics  was  just  so  much  time  taken  from 
the  law,  so  that  the  income  he  derived  from  his  practice 
was  very  small,  the  day  had  come,  as  he  must  have  seen 
it  would  come  had  he  not  been  too  blinded  by  his  en- 
thusiasm for  the  work  his  soul  loved,  when  continued 
indulgence  in  this  reckless  policy  at  last  obliged  him 
to  face  more  or  less  straitened  circumstances. 

With  little  or  nothing  coming  in,  and  all  the  money 
[156] 


Temptation 

there  was  going  out,  it  was  hardly  surprising  that  his 
arrears  should  eventually  have  brought  him  to  an  abrupt 
standstill.  As  he  reckoned  it,  it  would  take  about  six- 
teen thousand  dollars  to  cover  his  obligations  and  set 
him  on  his  feet  again.  How  was  he  possibly  to  earn 
so  much  money  ?  Why,  he  could  n't  do  it  in  a  year  un- 
less —  unless  — 

The  late  twilight  had  set  in,  and  a  big  moon,  chalk- 
white  like  the  face  of  a  clown,  peered  in  at  the  young 
man  from  between  two  neighboring  skyscrapers  where 
it  was  neatly  sandwiched,  but  Verney  was  n't  looking 
at  it  at  all.  With  a  groan  he  dropped  his  face  in  his 
hands.  The  rest  of  his  unfinished  thought  had  come 
to  him.  He  could  n't  possibly  make  sixteen  thousand 
a  year  or  anything  like  it  unless  he  gave  up  politics 
and  stuck  to  his  practice  alone.  It  would  have  seemed 
to  any  one  of  his  acquaintances  a  reasonable  and  simple 
enough  remedy,  in  fact,  the  only  sensible  thing  a  man 
in  his  position  could  do,  but  to  the  Politician  it  seemed 
the  bitterest  pill  life  had  yet  asked  him  to  swallow. 
The  generality  of  the  phrase  to  "  give  up  politics  " 
particularized,  meant  that  he  must  give  up  the  leader- 
ship of  his  District,  and  in  resigning  that,  he  would 
be  relinquishing  his  hold  on  the  whole  political  fabric 
and  would  be  putting  himself  out  of  the  running  for 
the  chance  of  holding  higher  office. 

Resign  the  leadership  of  his  District !  The  thought 
was  enough  to  make  him  groan.  His  District!  His 
organization  which  looked  to  him  for  the  salvation  of 

[157] 


The  Politician 

its  political  soul ;  the  trustful  flock  under  his  care,  in 
shepherding  which  through  campaign  after  campaign 
he  had  spent  the  busiest,  most  engrossing,  most  excit- 
ing hours  of  his  life!  He  had  worked  like  a  horse  for 
two  and  a  half  years,  ever  since  he  had  completed  his 
term  as  assembtyman  at  Albany,  and  now  just  as  his 
District  was  in  the  best  shape  it  ever  had  been  in,  he 
must  leave  it,  it  seemed  —  abandon  it  —  give  into  other 
hands  the  men  he  had  worked  with  so  long,  know  their 
waywardness  no  longer,  their  devotion  and  loyalty  no 
more.  And  for  what  a  reason !  Just  for  the  mere  lack 
of  money,  just  that  he  might  spend  his  time  in  the 
getting  together  of  wretched,  inanimate  but  necessary 
—  all,  how  necessary  !  —  silver  dollars. 

For  the  same  reason,  he  remembered,  he  had  been 
obliged  to  refuse  a  judgeship  a  few  years  ago,  because 
the  salary  that  went  with  it  was  not  so  much  as  he  could 
make  in  one  year  at  his  practice;  and  for  the  same 
reason  he  had  been  obliged  to  decline  to  return  to  the 
Legislature  the  year  before  last.  That  had  been  espe- 
cially hard,  for  he  had  loved  the  life  at  Albany,  and  had 
been  very  much  interested  in  the  part  he  played  in  it  as 
assemblyman.  The  sense  of  fighting,  with  great  issues 
at  stake  on  a  busy  day  in  the  House,  appealed  to  him ; 
when  men  hurried  up  and  down  the  aisles,  pages  ran 
hither  and  thither,  and  overwrought  members  at  different 
desks  besought  the  attention  of  the  Speaker  with  vocif- 
erous voice  and  furious  gesture;  and  the  Speaker,  his 
friend  Ordway,  calm-faced,  cold-eyed,  tapped  patiently 
for  order  on  the  little  square  of  marble  in  the  corner  of 

[158] 


Temptation 

his  desk.  Also  he  had  loved  the  quiet  days  when  the 
House  seemed  to  have  been  in  session  for  months  and 
there  was  little  or  nothing  to  do,  and  he  had  plenty  of 
time  to  lean  back  from  his  desk  and  consider  the  passing 
of  some  new  bill  he  was  planning,  and  the  assemblymen 
around  him  read  newspapers,  and  the  only  sound  to 
break  the  stillness  was  the  voice  of  the  reading-clerk. 
How  much  he  enjoyed,  in  those  days  when  he  had  been 
running  for  the  office  of  assemblyman  from  his  district, 
the  excitement  of  the  campaign !  How  interested  in  it 
all  his  mother  and  father  had  been,  in  spite  of  their 
reasons  for  opposing  his  going  into  politics !  How 
eagerly  they  had  followed  the  course  of  the  campaign ! 
How  loyal  and  devoted,  too,  had  been  the  butcher  and 
baker  and  other  tradespeople  who  looked  after  the 
welfare  of  the  house  of  Ellis,  how  zealous  to  get  their 
friends  to  vote  for  Mr.  Verney!  And  his  old  nurse, 
who  still  lived  with  the  family,  and  whom  Verney  had 
referred  to  since  childhood  as  "  Nanna,"  how  anxious 
she  had  been  for  her  favorite's  success,  how  she  had 
cried  with  joy  when  he  himself  brought  her  news  of 
his  election ! 

Poignant  with  pain  as  these  reflections  were  now  that 
he  had  begun  to  think  they  were  all  memories  of  the 
past  and  that  such  moments  were  never  to  be  his  again, 
Verney  could  not  help  smiling  as  he  thought  of  the 
Scott  brothers,  who  lived  on  Eighteenth  Street,  six 
young  men  who  were  great  friends  of  his,  and  the 
ease  with  which  he  had,  every  election-time,  talked  them 
all  into  voting  the  straight  Republican  ticket,  although 

[159] 


The  Politician 

they  were  all  professed  Democrats!  He  laughed  aloud 
as  he  recalled  how  on  the  last  occasion  of  the  sort 
they  had  rebelled,  in  spite  of  the  eloquent  hours  he 
had  spent  urging  them  to  vote  for  the  best  man,  no 
matter  what  party  he  belonged  to,  and  that  the  best 
men  that  particular  year  were  all  Republicans  —  and 
they  had  refused  to  do  anything  of  the  sort.  They 
were  Democrats,  they  had  said,  as  their  father  and 
grandfather  had  been  before  them,  and  they  'd  like  to 
see  Verney  make  'em  vote  anything  but  the  straight 
Democratic  ticket!  Thus  they  had  sworn  to  him,  and 
to  each  other,  before  they  went  to  vote  the  morning  of 
election  day,  but  late  election  night,  notwithstanding, 
each  had  gone  home  to  the  house  on  Eighteenth  Street, 
removed  his  shoes  before  mounting  the  stairs,  for  fear 
of  waking  his  brother,  and  crept  shame-faced  to  bed; 
for  each  one  in  succession  when  he  had  actually  come  to 
the  point  of  voting,  had  found  himself  somehow  or 
other  unable  to  go  against  Verney,  and  rather  than 
offend  him,  each  and  all  had  climbed  ingloriously  on 
the  band  wagon  and  voted  the  Republican  ticket. 

But  there  were  to  be  no  more  days  like  those;  his 
political  career  was  over,  the  chance  to  rise  —  to  use 
a  position  of  power  for  good  —  was  gone ;  his  great 
ambition  to  raise  the  standard  of  politics,  to  clear  the 
reputation  of  politicians,  was  out  of  his  power  to 
realize.  He  groaned  again  as  he  thought  of  it,  and 
the  tears  —  there  was  no  one  there  to  see  —  started  to 
his  eyes  and  blurred  the  implacable  row  of  figures  on  the 
paper  before  him  and  turned  each  separate  one  into  a 

[160] 


Temptation 

little  dancing  devil  that  shouted  at  him,  "  What  are 
you  going  to  do  about  me?  " 

For  there  is  unfortunately  no  premium  attached  to 
the  career  of  the  honest,  uncorrupt,  high-minded  man 
in  politics.  The  only  reward  such  public  service  has 
to  offer  is  the  opportunity  for  graft  and  that  the  man 
of  integrity  rejects,  which  is  in  itself  an  explanation 
of  the  corruption  of  present  day  politics.  When  public 
service  must  mean  financial  sacrifice  few  "  good  men  " 
can  afford  to  go  into  that  kind  of  life ;  and  the  reason 
unprincipled  men  can  afford  to  do  so  is  that  they  go  in 
for  what  they  can  get  out  of  it.  Here,  for  instance, 
was  Vernejr  Ellis,  a  young  man  whose  only  motive  in 
entering  politics  was  a  patriotic  one,  to  see  what  good 
he  could  do ;  yet  because  it  was  necessary  for  him  to 
make  money  in  order  to  live,  he  was  forced  to  abandon 
his  high  ambitions  and  give  up  the  life  he  loved.  It 
seemed  as  if  something  were  very  wrong  with  the  whole 
scheme  of  things,  if  it  was  possible  that  the  lack  of 
money  should  influence  his  career  more  than  the  coun- 
try's need  for  right-minded  men  in  public  life ;  and  yet 
apparently,  in  this  case  it  was  so.  What  a  reproach  to 
the  richest  country  in  the  world ! 

Minute  after  minute  passed  while  Ellis  faced  with 
what  fortitude  he  could  the  terrible  necessity  of  re- 
signing the  leadership  of  his  District  as  the  only  means 
of  saving  the  situation  financially.  If  only  he  could 
think  of  another  way  out  of  it!  Of  something  else  he 
could  do !  He  could  n't  ask  his  father  for  the  neces- 
sary sixteen  thousand,  considering  Mr.  Ellis's  late 
"  [  161  ] 


The  Politician 

business  reverses;  but  he  would  not  have  stopped  at 
shovelling  coal  if  he  might  have  raised  the  required 
sum  by  that  means. 

The  moon,  which  had  escaped  from  its  trap  between 
the  tall  buildings  and  now  was  showing  its  jolly  clown's 
face  far  up  in  the  sky,  had  begun  to  look  less  chalky 
and  to  take  on  a  silver  tone,  filling  Nassau  Street  with 
its  early  splendor,  before  the  Politician  raised  his  head 
from  his  hands,  his  problem  solved.  By  the  mercy  of 
God,  or  by  the  inspiration  of  the  devil,  he  was  n't  sure 
at  the  time  which  it  was,  another  way  out  of  his 
difficulty  had  been  shown  him. 

"  I  must  marry  a  rich  girl !  "  he  said  softly,  musingly, 
as  he  put  away  his  papers  and  reached  for  his  hat  and 
gloves ;  then  with  sober  face  and  slow  step,  he  left  the 
office  and  made  his  way  up  town. 

Earlier  that  same  afternoon,  Harriet  Rand  was  sit- 
ting in  her  room  at  the  Holland  House,  deeply  en- 
gaged in  thought,  and  the  subject  of  her  thoughts  was 
Vernor  Ellis  and  his  career  —  which  her  confidence  in 
him  assured  her  would  land  him  eventually  in  the  White 
House.  Her  aunt  had  gone  out  with  Mrs.  Chittenden, 
and  Miss  Rand  was  waiting  for  Carol  Ellis  to  arrive, 
that  engaging  and  vivacious  young  person  having  in- 
vited Harriet  to  go  with  her  to  a  small  tea  given  by 
Mrs.  de  Albert,  a  young  married  friend  of  Miss  Ellis's. 

"  It 's  very  informal  —  so  few  people  are  in  town," 
said  Carol,  who  had  called  for  Harriet  in  due  time,  as 
she  and  her  friend  got  out  of  the  taxicab  that  had 

[162] 


Temptation 

brought  them  to  the  door  of  Mrs.  de  Albert's  house  in 
Seventieth  Street. 

The  confusion  of  laughter  and  talk  in  the  room  where 
the  tea  was  going  on  halted  for  the  fraction  of  a  second 
as  the  two  girls  entered,  and  until  the  nine  or  ten 
women  sitting  and  standing  about,  who  all  knew  each 
other  more  or  less  intimately,  assimilated  the  fact  that 
the  slight,  large-eyed  girl  in  dark  blue  with  Carol  Ellis 
was  a  stranger,  and  then  the  chatter  flowed  on  evenly 
with  polite  indifference. 

Carol  introduced  Harriet  at  once  to  their  hostess,  a 
young  matron  with  a  high  color  and  a  high  voice,  and 
Mrs.  de  Albert  introduced  them  both  to  Mrs.  Harris 
from  California  for  whom  the  tea  was  given.  After 
a  few  words  with  this  very  amiable  lady,  whose  sole 
mission  in  life  seemed  to  be  to  agree  with  people,  and 
whose  staple  remark  in  conversation  was  "  You  're  so 
right ! "  they  moved  on  toward  a  sofa  not  far  away 
from  the  tea-table  where  two  or  three  attractive  girls 
were  sitting.  Miss  Ellis  knew  them  all  and  soon  made 
them  acquainted  with  Harriet.  Miss  Gladys  Leverich,. 
who  was  one  of  them,  Harriet  thought  particularly 
attractive.  They  were  very  busy  talking  and  laughing- 
while  they  drank  their  tea,  when  Miss  Rand  felt 
suddenly  that  some  one  was  staring  at  her,  and  glancing 
up  she  encountered  the  brilliant  hazel  eyes  of  Mrs. 
Willie  Gibbs. 

Harriet  stared  back  a  moment  in  a  casual,  uninterested 
manner,  then  turned  away  her  gaze.  A  little  later, 

[163] 


The  Politician 

Carol,  who  had  left  her  friend  with  Gladys  Leverich 
while  she  spoke  to  some  one  who  had  just  come  in, 
seized  upon  Miss  Rand  and  began  introducing  her  right 
and  left  in  her  informal,  jolly  way,  and  almost  before 
she  knew  it  the  girl  found  herself  face  to  face  with 
Mrs.  Gibbs  who  was,  she  felt  in  a  subtle,  intuitive  way, 
inimical  to  her. 

"  Mrs.  Gibbs,"  said  Carol  introducing  them,  "  do 
you  know  Miss  Rand  ?  " 

"  She  's  very  handsome,"  thought  Harriet  to  herself, 
a  kind  of  regretful  quality  in  the  admission  in  spite  of 
herself ;  and  "  How  pretty  she  is !  "  thought  Cora  Gibbs, 
*'  much  prettier  even  than  I  imagined  at  first." 

And  then,  drawn  to  each  other,  in  spite  of  their  mutual 
feeling  of  distrust,  by  the  knowledge  that  each  was  in- 
terested in  the  Politician,  they  sat  down  in  adjoining 
chairs  and  began  to  talk.  After  a  few  minutes'  con- 
versation, however,  Harriet  found  that  she  could  not 
get  on  at  all  well  with  Mrs.  Gibbs.  She  was  rather 
amusing,  the  young  heiress  thought,  and  she  said  a 
number  of  clever  things,  but  they  had  a  doubtful  flavor 
about  them.  Things  Harriet  would  never  have  thought 
of  laughing  at  herself,  Mrs.  Gibbs  apparently  seemed 
to  think  excruciatingly  funny. 

"  It 's  a  pity  you  did  n't  come  to  New  York  when 
the  season  was  on,  when  there  were  dances  and  things," 
she  told  Harriet.  "  Hardly  any  one  is  home  now. 
These  women  you  see  to-day  are  here  only  temporarily, 
between  visits  in  the  country  or  to  do  some  shopping, 

[164] 


Temptation 

or  something.  If  I  were  n't  getting  ready  to  go  abroad 
next  month  I  should  n't  be  here  myself." 

Harriet  said  she  did  n't  especially  care  for  dances 
and  things.  She  had  been  to  so  many  at  home,  and 
she  supposed  they  were  much  the  same.  New  York 
was  interesting  to  her,  in  season  and  out,  and  it  was 
the  best  time  to  shop  when  there  were  fewer  people  in 
town. 

The  first  portion  only  of  her  remarks  caught  Mrs. 
Gibbs's  attention.  "  Don't  care  about  dances? "  she 
said ;  "  well,  that  is  strange !  But  I  think  you  would, 
and  I  think  you  'd  find  them  different,  if  you  went  to 
one  in  New  York.  I  never  will  forget  one  of  the  Friday 
evening  cotillions  that  Billy  Vandewater  led  —  a  very 
attractive  fellow,  by  the  way,  you  must  meet  him, —  the 
horse-and-driver  figure,  particularly !  " 

"  Did  it  go  so  well?  "  enquired  Harriet  perfunctorily, 
not  a  bit  interested. 

"  Go  well?  "  repeated  the  light-hearted  and  beautiful 
Cora  Gibbs,  laughing  delightedly  at  the  very  remem- 
brance ;  "  my  dear,  it  was  a  regular  romp !  No  place 
for  lisle  stockings,  I  assure  you ! " 

Miss  Rand,  though  she  could  not  help  getting  an 
immediate  and  vivid  impression  of  the  figure  in  question 
from  this  vigorous  and  descriptive  line,  was  not  in  the 
least  amused  by  it,  and  made  no  attempt  to  reply; 
she  felt  justified  by  its  questionable  taste  in  letting  her 
attention  wander  to  the  other  people  in  the  room.  Her 
averted  head,  however,  did  not  seem  to  bother  Mrs* 

[165] 


The  Politician 

Gibbs  a  bit,  who  continued  to  prattle  happily  on  as  if 
she  had  the  most  interested  of  auditors. 

So  it  happened  that  Harriet  presently  found  herself 
listening  without  intending  it,  to  a  conversation  be- 
tween a  woman  standing  near  her,  whom  she  did  not 
know,  and  Gladys  Leverich.  She  had  been  hearing 
what  they  said  without  exactly  taking  it  in,  when  a 
sentence  from  Miss  Leverich  caught  her  attention.  In 
a  momentary  pause  that  seemed  to  come  in  the  talk 
all  over  the  room,  she  heard  the  New  York  girl's  high 
sweet  tones  saying,  "  Ask  Verney  Ellis,  he  told  me  so 
himself." 

"  What  did  Verney  Ellis  tell  you?  "  asked  Mrs.  Gibbs 
(she  also  had  heard)  serenely  enough  but  insistently 
nevertheless.  "Tell  us,  won't  you,  Gladys?" 

Apparently  Miss  Leverich's  answer  to  this  question 
was  of  interest  to  every  woman  in  the  room,  for  no 
other  conversation  was  continued. 

"  Why,  he  said,"  replied  the  young  girl,  "  that  if 
Oliver  Ordway  were  nominated  Governor  they  might 
nominate  him  for  Attorney-general ! " 

"Really?  How  perfectly  fine!"  came  the  chorus 
from  every  part  of  the  room,  and  Harriet  perceived, 
and  not  without  a  certain  pang,  that  Ellis  was  very 
well  known  to  all  these  women. 

"  That 's  nothing  new,"  remarked  Mrs.  Gibbs  care- 
lessly, while  Miss  Rand  realized  still  more  acutely,  as 
the  beautiful  Mrs.  Willie  made  the  remark,  that  it  was 
not  such  a  distinction  to  be  friend  and  confidante  to 
Verney  Ellis  as  she  had  imagined.  "  It 's  been  talked 

[166] 


Temptation 

about  a  long  time,"  continued  Mrs.  Gibbs ;  "  he  told  me 
jears  ago ! " 

She  rose  as  she  spoke  and  picked  up  a  magazine  from 
the  table  and  began  to  glance  through  it  as  if  the  sub- 
ject no  longer  interested  her.  Mrs.  de  Albert,  who 
knew  Cora  Gibbs  very  well,  came  over  to  her  and  laid 
her  hand  on  the  other  woman's  shoulder. 

"  Peevish,  Cora  ?  "  she  whispered  loudly ;  "  but  never 
mind,  you  ought  to  know  Verney  Ellis  by  this  time ! 
I  don't  believe  there  's  a  woman  in  New  York  worth 
knowing  that  he  has  n't  confided  in  at  one  time  or  an- 
other." 

"  I  'm  sure  I  don't  care,"  returned  Cora,  wriggling 
from  under  her  would-be  consoler's  hand,  and  continu- 
ing to  turn  the  leaves  of  the  magazine. 

Mrs.  de  Albert,  who  perhaps  had  not  been  so  anxious 
to  soothe  her  friend  as  to  amuse  herself,  went  away 
laughing,  to  greet  a  newly  arrived  guest;  and  Harriet, 
who  had  heard,  moved  away  too,  with  a  sense  that  she 
was  n't  having  a  good  time  at  all,  and  a  wish  that  she 
had  not  come. 

In  reality  it  was  nothing  out  of  the  way  or  at  all 
discreditable  to  him  that  Ellis  should  have  known  all 
these  women  well  —  rather  a  compliment,  on  the  con- 
trary, for  they  were  all  nice  and  as  a  group  unusually 
attractive;  but  to  Harriet,  who  didn't  understand  his 
attitude  in  the  matter  of  having  women  friends  —  which, 
briefly  defined,  was  a  feeling  that  in  numbers  lay  safety 
—  the  idea  that  her  hero  was  everybody's  hero  came 
as  a  revelation  that  was  also  something  of  a  blow. 

F1671 


The  Politician 

When  you  're  trying  to  put  some  one  on  a  pedestal,  it 
makes  you  feel  chagrined  to  find  that  he  's  already  there 
without  any  of  your  help.  She  was  therefore  very  glad 
indeed  to  see  that  the  person  whom  Mrs.  de  Albert  had 
gone  forward  to  greet  was  Mrs.  Ordway.  Now  she 
would  really  enjoy  herself  after  all,  she  thought,  going 
up  to  the  young  Speaker's  wife.  For  she  really  liked 
Mrs.  Ordway  and  wanted  her  for  a  friend.  Mrs. 
Ordway  for  her  part,  seemed  very  glad  to  see  Harriet, 
and  they  were  soon  absorbed  in  a  discussion  of  art,  in 
which  both  were  interested. 

"  You  must  come  and  see  my  studio,"  said  the  older 
woman  when  she  found  that  Harriet  had  one  herself 
in  her  home  at  Lake  Forest.  "  I  spend  a  great  deal 
of  time  there.  Mr.  Ordway  is  away  so  much." 

"  I  should  like  to  come  very  much,"  replied  Harriet, 
"  although  I  can't  pose  as  being  any  sort  of  critic. 
I  love  the  work,  but  I  don't  do  as  much  as  I  should,  or 
so  my  aunt  says." 

"  Oh,  but  you  must !  "  returned  Agnes ;  "  it 's  a  shame 
to  hide  your  light,  to  have  a  talent  and  not  use  it.  It 's 
ungrateful,  I  think." 

"  To  Providence  for  giving  it  to  you  ?  " 

"  Yes.     Having  it  confers  an  obligation,  you  know." 

"  If  it 's  a  very  great  talent,"  returned  Miss  Rand, 
"  but  for  myself  I  rather  hate  to  run  the  risk  of  adding 
anything  to  the  mediocrity  of  the  world,  there  's  so 
much  of  it  already." 

"  That 's  true,  of  course,"  said  Mrs.  Ordway,  her  face 
[168] 


Temptation 

—  which  had  the  young  look  that  married  women  often 
have  who  have  had  no  children  —  very  thoughtful, 
"  but  you  see  I  have  so  little  to  occupy  my  time,  and 
I  must  keep  busy  about  something ! "  There  was  a 
passionate  intensity  in  her  tone. 

Harriet,  who  did  n't  understand  her  friend's  loneli- 
ness and  the  reason  for  it,  was  wondering  what  she 
meant  by  saying  she  had  to  keep  busy  about  something, 
so  long  as  she  had  her  husband's  career  to  be  interested 
in,  and  might  perhaps  have  asked  the  other  to  explain, 
when  their  conversation  was  broken  in  upon  by  the 
gay  voice  of  Mrs.  Gibbs. 

"  Don't  stand  there  and  talk,  you  two,  in  that  dread- 
fully serious,  exclusive  fashion,"  she  said ;  "  I  know  it 's 
something  terribly  intellectual,  I  can  tell  by  your  faces, 
and  we  've  got  something  so  exciting  to  talk  about  over 
here ! " 

Mrs.  Ordway  and  Harriet  looked  over  there  and  saw- 
that  the  crowd  had  thinned  out,  leaving  a  small  group 
sitting  in  a  confidential  ring  around  the  tea-table. 

"What's  your  exciting  subject,  Cora?"  Mrs.  Ord- 
way said,  smiling  at  Mrs.  Gibbs,  as  she  and  Harriet 
joined  the  group. 

"  It 's  a  question,"  said  Mrs.  Gibbs,  standing  in  the 
middle  of  the  circle  of  women,  her  face  flushed  and  mis- 
chievous, a  cigarette  between  her  first  and  second  fingers. 
"  We  're  trying  to  decide  what  a  woman  marries  a  man 
for!" 

It  was  the  time  of  day  most  dear  to  the  woman  who 
[169] 


The  Politician 

makes  a  business  of  amusing  herself,  when  the  stress  of 
the  afternoon's  gayeties  is  past  and  those  planned  for 
the  evening  are  still  far  enough  away  to  permit  of  a 
few  moments  of  relaxation  before  the  duty  of  dressh  ^ 
again  presents  itself.  A  delightful  sense  of  peace,  of 
leisure  with  no  immediate  necessity  of  hurrying  any- 
where for  some  time  yet,  pervaded  the  room.  A  big 
yellow  lamp  stood  sentinel  by  the  sparkling  tea-table 
with  its  dainty  freight  of  liqueur  glasses  and  teacups, 
and  slender  forms  with  comfortably  crossed  knees  leaned 
gracefully  back  in  the  chintz-covered  chairs.  Voices 
were  low  and  laughter  was  frequent,  while  white  fingers 
made  frank  excursions  to  the  big  silver-rimmed  glass 
bowl  on  the  table  where  Mrs.  de  Albert  kept  her 
cigarettes. 

Harriet  had  never  approved  of  the  habit  of  smoking 
for  women,  and  was  very  glad  to  see  that  Mrs.  Ordway 
refused  the  cigarettes  when  they  were  passed  to  her. 
It  was  very  lucky  that  Harriet  Rand  did  not  have  to 
depend  on  her  drawing  for  her  living ;  she  was  too  fond 
of  the  conventions  to  have  made  a  good  Bohemian. 
She  was  also,  however,  too  wise  to  criticise  where  she 
was  not  called  upon  to  do  so,  and  too  truly  kind  and 
generous  to  be  intolerant;  so  she  refused  them  herself 
with  a  smile  and  did  not  explain  that  she  never  smoked. 

"  What  do  you  marry  a  man  for?  "  repeated  Mrs. 
Ordway,  "  that 's  easy :  So  you  won't  be  lonely  in  your 
old  age!" 

She  smiled  bravely  around  her  as  if  to  defy  any  one 
[170] 


Temptation 

to  say  that  if  that  had  been  her  ambition  in  marrying, 
it  did  not  look  so  far  as  if  it  stood  much  chance  of  being 
gratified. 

"  I  don't  agree,"  said  Mrs.  Gibbs.  "  Who  cares 
what  happens  when  they're  old?"  She  looked  as  if 
she  did  n't,  certainly,  with  her  splendid  spirits  and 
warm,  brilliant  beauty. 

"  Next  ?  "  she  said  looking  questioningly  round  the 
circle  of  laughing  faces. 

Gladys  Leverich  rose  to  the  occasion.  "  To  have 
little  thrills  run  up  and  down  your  spine  when  your 
eyes  meet  his,"  she  declared. 

A  smile  went  round  the  ring,  and  every  woman  looked 
at  the  other,  as  if  to  say  "  We  know  she  's  right,  but 
do  we  dare  say  so?  " 

"  I  don't  care,  that  is  the  reason ! "  insisted  Gladys, 
perceiving  that  her  idea  was  to  get  no  support,  and 
compelled  to  uphold  it  herself. 

"  To  have  a  strong  shoulder  to  cry  on ! "  drawled  a 
sophisticated-looking  young  person  with  ironic  em- 
phasis. 

"  Oh,  Amy !  How  can  you  be  so  silly  ?  "  they  all 
exclaimed,  laughing.  That  idea,  as  they  knew  its 
author  intended  it  to  do,  seemed  most  ridiculous  of  all 
to  this  smart,  alert,  self-reliant  group  of  women,  as 
typically  independent  as  the  modern  woman  can  be. 

An  older  woman  with  good-humored  eyes,  who  had 
been  married  a  long  time  and  whose  talent  for  listening 
patiently  to  other  people's  troubles  made  her  beloved  of 

[HI] 


The  Politician 

young  women  and  old,  made  the  next  suggestion. 
"  To  have  children,"  she  said  with  a  vanquished  smile 
that  anticipated  the  storm  that  followed;  for  a  chorus 
of  protest  and  expostulation  and  even  derisive  laughter 
greeted  her  remark. 

"  The  idea !  "  said  every  one,  and  turned  hastily  to  the 
next  reader  of  the  riddle.  This  was  the  guest  of  honor, 
Mrs.  Harris. 

"  Because  no  one  else  has  asked  you,"  she  said  simply, 
and  realizing  from  the  very  look  of  her  that  she  meant 
it,  their  laughter  rang. 

"  Or  because  your  mother  made  you,"  said  a  dark- 
faced  young  married  woman  with  a  habitually  discon- 
tented expression.  This  solution  was  passed  quickly 
by,  however.  Everybody  knew  that  poor  Martha 
Wotherspoon,  who  had  lately  become  Mrs.  Reid  Ken- 
nard,  had  married  the  man  of  her  mother's  choice  — 
who  was  twice  her  age  but  fabulously  wealthy  —  in- 
stead of  her  own  choice,  a  nice  young  man  without  a 
cent. 

"  Come,  come ! "  said  Mrs.  Gibbs  impatiently  looking 
round  at  the  women  who  had  not  yet  answered,  "  this 
will  never  do !  Every  county  must  be  heard  from,  or 
we  '11  never  discover  the  answer !  How  about  it,  Connie 
Wilde  ?  What  does  a  woman  marry  a  man  for  ?  " 

"  For  fun !  "  replied  Miss  Wilde,  who  was  exceedingly 
pretty .  but  did  not  look  as  if  she  had  a  sensible  idea 
in  her  head. 

"  To  get  married ! "  suggested  Mrs.  Underbill,  a 
smart-looking  young  matron  who  sat  next  to  her; 

[172] 


Temptation 

"  that 's  what  most  women  do  it  for,  I  think.  At  least 
when  I  look  at  some  husbands  that 's  the  only  explana- 
tion that  occurs  to  me."  She  laughed  satirically. 

Mrs.  Harris  rolled  appreciative  eyes  at  the  speaker. 
"  You  're  so  right !  "  she  said. 

Whereupon  Bessie  Underhill  seemed  very  much 
amused  —  perhaps  because  she  had  happened  to  meet 
Mr.  Harris  and  had  set  him  down  at  once  for  one  of 
the  husbands  to  be  explained  in  that  way;  for  she 
laughed  so  hard  that  she  grew  almost  hysterical  and  had 
to  have  another  creme  de  menthe  to  quiet  her. 

Harriet  could  n't  stand  it  any  longer,  she  thought  it 
was  all  too  silly  for  anything,  and  the  frivolous  treat- 
ment of  the  sacred  subject  of  marriage  quite  unworthy. 
She  did  n't  realize,  not  knowing  these  women  well,  that 
their  frivolity  was  only  the  mood  of  the  moment,  the 
result  of  the  irresponsible  nature  of  the  hour,  and  their 
sense  of  relaxation ;  for  most  of  them  were  in  reality 
women  of  character. 

"  I  don't  think  any  one  has  given  the  right  answer 
to  your  question,  Mrs.  Gibbs,"  she  said  boldly  and  very 
gravely.  "  I  think  that  what  you  marry  a  man  for  is 
to  help  him!  To  do  all  you  can  to  make  him  succeed 
in  his  work  —  in  his  career." 

It  was  a  brave  thing  to  do,  to  express  an  opinion 
that  was  in  the  nature  of  a  rebuke  in  a  gathering  where 
she  was  so  little  known,  but  the  courage  of  her  convic- 
tions was  something  Harriet  did  not  lack.  Amazed 
silence  followed  this  speech  for  a  moment ;  then  the  older 
woman  who  had  ventured  to  speak  in  behalf  of  the  chil- 

[173] 


The  Politician 

dren,  said  sweetly :  "  I  agree  with  you,  Miss  Rand. 
We  were  getting  too  silly ;  but,  of  course,  we  all  really 
feel  that  way  about  it,  too." 

A  murmur  of  assent  corroborated  this  statement,  and 
pleasant  glances  were  cast  in  the  direction  of  the 
Chicago  girl  who  was  not  afraid  to  speak  her  mind, 
though  her  opinion  had  been  cast  in  such  serious  mould 
as  to  check  the  spirit  of  levity  in  which  the  others  had 
been  giving  theirs.  They  did  not  altogether  relish  being 
rebuked,  but  they  could  not  help  admiring  the  rebuker 
for  her  courage. 

There  was  a  general  movement  to  go,  and  Mrs.  Ord- 
way  as  she  rose,  by  way  of  restoring  to  the  atmosphere 
the  ease  of  the  moment  before,  reminded  Mrs.  Gibbs 
that  she  had  not  yet  been  heard  from  on  the  subject  of 
the  afternoon's  discussion. 

"  What  do  you  think  we  marry  a  man  for,  Cora  ?  " 
she  asked. 

Mrs.  Gibbs  put  her  finger  to  her  brow,  as  if  in  deep 
thought,  then  threw  wide  her  hands  in  a  gesture  of 
despair. 

"  I  'm  sure  I  don't  know !  "  she  said. 

A  few  moments  later,  as  Harriet  and  Carol,  who  were 
among  the  first  to  go,  were  standing  on  the  steps  wait- 
ing for  their  cab  to  arrive,  the  former  heard  a  swift 
whisper  at  her  shoulder,  and  turning,  found  Mrs.  Ord- 
way's  face  close  to  hers. 

"  My  dear,"  said  Agnes  Ordway  very  low  and 
hurriedly,  "  what  you  said  about  marrying  to  help  a 

[174] 


Temptation 

man  was  quite  right,  is  quite  true  as  a  general  thing, 
but  not  in  the  case  of  a  man  whose  work  is  politics." 
Her  blue  eyes  sought  Harriet's  dark  ones  with  a  certain 
intensity  of  expression.  "  Don't  marry  a  politician," 
she  repeated  warningly,  "  if  you  want  to  help,"  and 
swept  away  to  her  automobile. 

Although  Harriet  did  not  understand  the  warning 
at  the  time,  or  what  had  prompted  it,  it  was  given,  as  a 
matter  of  fact,  because  Mrs.  Ordway  had  divined  that 
Harriet  had  had  Verney  Ellis  in  mind  in  saying  that  the 
reason  a  woman  married  a  man  was  to  help  him.  in  his 
career,  and  that  Harriet  thought  she  could  help  him ;  and 
the  married  woman  wanted  to  save  her  friend  from  dis- 
covering as  she  had  done  in  her  own  case,  that  she  would 
not  be  allowed  to  help.  For  Mrs.  Ordway's  own  expe- 
rience had  been  of  the  sort  to  make  her  feel  that, 
contrary  to  the  custom  of  the  Englishman,  who  never 
thinks  of  excluding  his  wife  from  any  part  of  his 
affairs,  in  this  country  the  last  thing  a  man  wants 
to  do,  is  to  make  his  wife  his  confidante  in  business 
matters,  and  that  this  was  especially  true  if  his  business 
happened  to  be  politics.  Even  if  he  had  the  inclina- 
tion to  take  her  into  his  confidence,  she  had  come  to  the 
conclusion  he  had  n't  the  time,  so  tremendous  is  the 
activity  necessitated  by  a  political  career  in  the  United 
States. 

When  Miss  Rand  reached  the  Holland  House  that 
afternoon,  which  was  not  until  half  past  six,  she  found 
that  Verney  Ellis  had  called  in  her  absence.  Her 

[175] 


The  Politician 

aunt's  voice  from  an  inner  apartment  apprised  her  that 
the  card  was  on  the  table  in  their  reception  room  and 
that  Mr.  Ellis  had  only  just  gone.  Harriet  picked  it 
up  with  a  feeling  of  keen  disappointment. 

"  He  must  have  stopped  on  his  way  up  from  the 
office,"  she  thought.  "  How  too  tiresome  I  missed 
him!" 


[176] 


CHAPTER  X 

"WHO  KNOWS  BUT  THE  WORLD  MAY  END 
TO-NIGHT?  " 

THE  first  of  September  was  on  Saturday,  and  on 
that  afternoon  there  was  to  be  an  open-air  horse- 
show  not  far  from  New  York,  for  which  Mrs. 
Ordway  had  made  up  a  party  and  invited  Harriet  Rand. 
The  others  who  were  going  were  Carol  Ellis,  Gladys 
Leverich,  Gerald  Merrick,  and,  of  course,  Verney. 
The  latter  had  offered  to  drive  them  out  by  coach,  the 
coach  in  question  belonging  to  a  friend  of  Ellis's  for 
whom  he  often  drove;  and  Mrs.  Ordway  was  very  much 
pleased  with  the  idea;  so  it  was  a  great  disappoint- 
ment when  the  young  man  telephoned  her  at  the  last 
moment  that  he  would  be  unable  to  go  after  all.  It 
was  only  two  weeks  to  the  convention,'  and  he  was  very 
busy,  he  told  her.  He  was  sorry  not  to  have  them  go 
out  by  coach,  but  if  she  wished  he  could  get  some  one 
else  to  drive.  Mrs.  Ordway,  too  irritated  with  him 
to  flatter  him  by  explaining  that  she  did  n't  want  any 
one  else,  told  him  that  she  had  changed  her  plans 
anyway,  and  proceeded  to  take  her  guests  out  by  motor. 
"  That 's  the  worst  of  knowing  the  boy  so  well,"  she 
said  ruefully ;  "  he  thinks  he  can  fail  me  at  the  last 
minute  like  that,  and  that  it  does  n't  matter  a  bit ! " 
12  [  177  ] 


The  Politician 

"  It  does  n't,"  said  Harriet  serenely.  They  were  in 
their  box  at  the  horse-show.  "  Oh,  look  at  those  bays ; 
I  like  them  far  the  best!"  She  called  Gerald  Mer- 
rick's  attention  to  an  unusually  fine  pair  of  harness 
horses  just  passing. 

She  had  been  at  many  such  exhibitions,  but  because 
of  her  great  love  of  horses,  such  shows  never  lost  their 
charm  for  her,  especially  when  they  were  given  in  the 
open  air.  People  passing  in  the  promenade  nodded 
and  smiled  at  Mrs.  Ordway's  party  or  came  in  to  talk ; 
but  although  a  number  of  them  were  known  to  her, 
Harriet's  interest  still  was  centred  in  the  green-hedged 
ring  with  the  judges'  stand  in  the  middle.  She  had 
come  to  see  the  horses,  not  the  people.  That  is  not 
saying  that  the  people  were  not  worth  seeing,  for  it 
was  an  unusually  smart  assemblage,  and  with  the  show 
horses  and  liveried  attendants  in  the  ring,  the  group 
of  booted  and  spurred  horsemen  about  the  judges' 
stand,  the  green-roofed  boxes  from  which  the  purple 
and  yellow  colors  of  the  club  floated,  made  a  brilliant 
picture  under  the  bright  September  sun. 

It  was  only  when  Mrs.  Gibbs  stopped  to  speak  to 
them,  very  beautiful  in  an  elaborate  costume  of  laven- 
der shaded  by  a  lavender  parasol,  with  an  admirer  at 
each  elbow,  that  Harriet  was  able  to  withdraw  her 
gaze  from  the  tourney  in  front  of  her,  where  the  flower 
of  equine  chivalry  in  burnished  armor  of  black,  brown, 
and  bay,  broke  lances  with  each  other  for  the  favor  of 
the  judges. 

[178] 


The  World  May  End 

"  Hello ! "  said  Cora  Gibbs,  one  lavender  shoe  on  the 
step  of  the  box,  her  color  deep  rose,  her  eyes  warm 
and  lustrous  under  the  shadow  of  a  small  bed  of  pansies 
which  had  been  cleverly  metamorphosed  into  the  form 
and  semblance  of  a  hat,  and  which  graced  her  head 
with  such  exquisite  sympathy  for  the  gold  of  her  hair 
that  the  artist  in  every  human  being  that  beheld  it, 
whether  envious  woman  or  admiring  man,  bowed  down 
in  homage. 

"  Where 's  Oliver,  Agnes  ?  Could  n't  he  come  ?  "  she 
said,  nodding  to  Harriet,  and  to  the  two  young  men 
in  the  box,  who  had  sprung  to  their  feet. 

"  No,"  smiled  Agnes ;  "  he  never  comes  to  things  like 
this,  you  know ;  he  has  n't  time." 

"  And  Verney  Ellis  ?  I  thought  you  told  me  he  was 
going  to  be  with  you." 

"  He  was,"  replied  Mrs.  Ordway  as  sweetly  as  before, 
"  only  something  prevented  at  the  last  moment." 

"  What  a  bad  Verney ! "  said  Mrs.  Gibbs,  arching 
her  brows  significantly  at  Harriet.  "  I  should  speak 
to  him  if  I  were  you,  Miss  Rand." 

And  before  Harriet  could  decide  whether  to  refute 
by  speech  or  silence  this  public  imputation  that  she  was 
directly  concerned  with  the  actions  of  Verney  Ellis, 
Mrs.  Gibbs  had  turned  to  Mrs.  Ordway  with  a  change 
of  subject. 

"Are  you  going  to  exhibit  to-day?" 

"  Yes,  my  hunter  Tybalt,"  replied  Agnes  Ordway, 
who  owned  some  fine  horses,  "  in  the  jumping  class." 

[179] 


The  Politician 

"  That  comes  next,"  observed  Harriet,  consulting  her 
programme. 

"  And  I  see  the  groom  walking  him  about  over  there 
beyond  those  carriages,"  added  Mrs.  Ordway.  "  I 
think  I  '11  go  and  see  how  he  is ! " 

"  Let  me  go  with  you,  Mrs.  Ordway,  do ! "  entreated 
Harriet,  who  was  anxious  to  see  her  friend's  horse,  but 
more  anxious  not  to  be  left  with  Mrs.  Gibbs,  who  had 
settled  down  in  the  box. 

They  found  Tybalt  in  excellent  spirits,  but  Stephen, 
the  groom,  had  bad  news  for  his  mistress.  It  seemed 
the  young  woman,  a  professional  who  was  to  have 
ridden  the  horse,  had  sprained  her  ankle  in  dismounting 
from  another  horse  and  had  only  just  been  taken  to 
the  club-house. 

"  She 's  in  too  much  pain  to  ride,  they  say,  Mrs. 
Ordway,"  said  the  man. 

Mrs.  Ordway  looked  much  taken  aback. 

"  How  terrible  !  "  she  said.  "  I  have  n't  time  to  get 
any  one  to  take  Miss  Bush's  place.  We  are  in  the  next 
class,  and  I  can't  ride  myself, —  I  've  never  ridden  at 
a  horse-show." 

"  I  have,"  said  Harriet,  who  had  made  up  her  mind 
immediately  to  help  her  friend  out  of  her  difficulty ; 
"  I  've  done  it  lots  of  times  at  home." 

"  Can  you?  Will  you?  "  implored  Mrs.  Ordway,  all 
hope  at  the  suggestion. 

Harriet  replied  by  signalling  a  carriage  standing 
near. 

"  We  '11  just  have  time,"  she  said,  as  they  got  in, 
[180] 


The  World  May  End 

"  to  drive  to  the  club  and  get  that  habit  off  Miss  Bush 
before  they  call  our  class." 

The  carriage  raced  to  the  near-by  club-house  and  in 
an  incredibly  short  time  the  moaning  Miss  Bush  was 
divested  of  a  correct  and  very  good-looking  habit,  and 
they  were  back  at  the  ring,  Harriet  appearing  very 
handsome  in  her  borrowed  plumes  and  not  a  bit  flurried 
by  her  haste  in  donning  them. 

"  Has  he  any  tricks  ?  "  she  asked  Stephen  as  he  took 
her  boot  in  his  hand  for  the  mount. 

"  Hold  him  hard  when  he  is  coming  up  and  let  him 
have  his  head  when  he  lands,"  replied  the  man. 

And  with  that,  Harriet  went  on  her  way  to  the  ring. 

"  Who  *s  that  ?  "  asked  a  young  man  who  arrived  at 
the  horse-show  just  as  she  entered.  He  touched  with 
his  light  cane  a  groom  lounging  on  the  rail  as  he 
spoke. 

"  I  swear  to  the  Lord  if  it  is  n't  Harriet ! "  next 
said  the  late  arrival,  who  was  Mr.  Verney  Ellis,  with- 
out waiting  for  the  man's  "  I  don't  know,  sir." 

The  explanation  of  the  young  man's  appearance  on 
the  scene  at  that  late  hour,  after  he  had  definitely  told 
Mrs.  Ordway  that  he  was  too  busy  to  go,  lay  in  his 
reason  for  changing  his  mind  about  going  in  the  first 
place.  It  was  all  the  result  of  a  revulsion  of  feeling 
following  his  resolution  to  marry  a  rich  girl  as  a  means 
of  extricating  himself  from  his  financial  difficulties 
without  abandoning  his  beloved  politics.  On  the  im- 
pulse of  the  moment,  spurred  on  by  that  dark  hour 
in  his  office,  he  had  called  on  Harriet  with  the  vaguely 

[181] 


The  Politician 

defined  purpose  of  beginning  the  campaign  for  her 
favor  at  once,  and  on  finding  that  she  had  gone  out, 
his  real  nature  asserted  itself,  and  he  left  the  hotel 
shuddering  at  the  mere  thought  of  the  thing  he  had 
been  about  to  do.  So  intense  was  his  self-contempt  — 
indeed,  his  horror  —  that  he,  Verney  Ellis,  should  have 
sunk  even  during  the  space  of  a  passing  mood  to  the 
level  of  those  despicable  beings  who  marry  for  money, 
that  he  could  not  telephone  Mrs.  Ordway  quickly 
enough  to  excuse  himself  from  her  party  to  the  horse- 
show.  To  keep  out  of  Harriet  Rand's  way  and  avoid 
her  at  every  opportunity  he  had  resolved  should  be 
his  greatest  care  hereafter,  so  that  he  might  never  have 
even  the  chance  so  to  accuse  himself  again. 

This  was  in  the  morning,  but  by  one  o'clock  he  had 
changed  his  mind  again,  and,  realizing  that  such  an 
extreme  measure  was  only  the  result  of  his  guilty  con- 
science, he  decided  that  it  would  not  be  necessary  after 
all  to  forswear  Harriet's  society  absolutely  in  order  to 
keep  his  self-respect,  and  that  he  would  take  the  1 :30 
train  to  the  country  and  join  Mrs.  Ordway's  party. 
He  knew  his  friend  Agnes  well  enough,  he  thought, 
to  make  the  uncertainty  of  his  political  engagements 
a  sufficient  excuse  for  his  indecision  in  regard  to  accept- 
ing her  invitation. 

The  horses  were  lined  up  in  the  centre  of  the  ring, 
near  the  judges'  stand,  while  the  various  attendants  in 
purple  and  yellow  livery  busied  themselves  erecting  the 
barriers  in  preparation  for  the  jumping  which  was  to 
come  next.  Harriet  was  perfectly  calm  and  confident. 

[182] 


The  World  May  End 

Tybalt  suited  her  exactly,  and  she  felt  that  she  would 
understand  him,  although  he  needed  very  delicate  hands 
to  keep  him  from  dancing  and  fussing. 

"  Easy,  boy,  easy,"  she  said  softly  to  the  one  pointed 
ear  pricked  back  toward  her  as  it  came  her  turn  to 
jump  and  she  and  Tybalt  left  the  safe  shelter  of  the 
judges'  stand.  As  she  cantered  slowly  around  the  ring 
a  number  of  people  who  had  not  noticed  her  before 
broke  into  admiring  ejaculation.  In  the  first  place 
Mrs.  Ordway's  horse  was  a  superb  animal ;  and  Harriet's 
steady  seat,  the  easy,  hardly  perceptible  sway  of  her 
slight  figure  to  his  canter,  and  the  beautiful  set  of 
her  shoulders,  were  things  worth  noticing.  The  fact 
that  so  few  people  knew  her  aroused  interest  as  well, 
and  as  she  encountered  the  first  gate  in  her  path  every 
one  was  busy  asking  who  the  handsome  girl  with  the 
black  eyes  on  the  bay  horse  could  be. 

The  first  time  around  the  ring  Harriet  accomplished 
both  jumps  with  no  difficulty,  a  burst  of  applause 
indeed  testifying  to  the  fact  that  Tybalt  had  not  so 
much  as  touched  either  of  them,  but  the  second  time 
she  had  trouble  with  the  last  jump.  Either  Tybalt 
had  become  excited  by  his  triumph,  or  had  allowed  the 
applause  to  get  on  his  nerves,  or  else  had  decided  that 
three  successful  efforts  of  the  kind  was  enough  for 
that  day.  Whatever  the  reason,  he  mortified  Harriet 
and  disappointed  the  spectators,  with  whom  he  was  a 
prime  favorite,  by  refusing  the  jump. 

Once  more  his  rider  galloped  him  back,  and  wheeling, 
put  him  at  the  bars,  and  once  more  he  balked  in  a  dis- 

[183] 


The  Politician 

agreeable  and  emphatic  manner,  sitting  down  on  his 
haunches  with  his  nose  touching  the  greens  with  which 
the  bars  were  decorated. 

The  third  attempt,  Harriet,  whose  blood  was  up  and 
who  was  excited  enough  by  now,  made  with  the  deter- 
mination to  get  the  horse  over  or  die.  She  knew  he 
could  do  it;  he  should  not  do  himself  and  his  rider 
and  his  owner  the  injustice  of  failing.  She  had  been 
patient  and  coaxing  before,  but  now  she  threw  such 
mild  measures  to  the  winds  and  taking  Tybalt  well  up 
by  the  head  struck  him  smartly  with  her  whip.  The 
horse,  who  had  been  prancing  along  as  belligerently 
as  if  he  were  the  Tybalt  of  Shakespeare  looking  for 
a  chance  to  get  under  Mercutio's  guard,  reared  sud- 
denly under  the  blow,  and  then  to  Harriet's  satisfaction 
settled  down  to  a  steady  gallop. 

But  the  last  jump  was  evidently  not  destined  to  be 
successful,  for  just  as  he  neared  the  gate  and  was 
taking  off,  an  attendant  stepped  forward  in  a  belated 
attempt  to  place  one  of  the  bars  more  securely,  and 
Tybalt,  taking  fright,  rushed  the  jump  without  rising 
enough  and  crashed  heavily  through  the  bars,  throwing 
his  rider  some  distance. 

A  murmur  of  consternation  rose  from  the  boxes  as 
Harriet  struck  and  lay  still,  and  men  came  running 
from  all  sides.  The  first  person  to  reach  her,  how- 
ever, was  Verney  Ellis,  who  from  a  point  near  at  hand 
had  been  watching  with  the  deepest  anxiety  her  efforts 
to  get  the  bay  horse  over  the  last  jump,  and  who  had 
vaulted  the  hedge  that  enclosed  the  ring  the  second 

[184-1 


The  World  May  End 

the  accident  happened,  and  had  run  to  her  side  at  top 
speed,  swearing  with  heart-felt  earnestness  as  he  ran. 

But  in  spite  of  his  hurry,  horse  and  rider  were  both 
up  by  the  time  he  arrived,  and  when  he  saw  that  Har- 
riet was  not  hurt,  he  seized  her  arm  and  gave  it  a  shake. 

"  What  did  you  want  to  do  that  for?  "  he  said,  his 
eyes  flashing.  "  You  might  as  well  kill  a  man  as  scare 
him  to  death !  " 

But  Harriet  saw  that  his  face  was  pale,  and  in  spite 
of  his  roughness  a  great  gladness  welled  up  in  her  heart 
because  she  knew  that  he  was  moved  —  that  he  would 
have  cared  a  great  deal  if  she  had  been  killed. 

"  I  'm  not  hurt,"  she  said,  smiling  faintly ;  and  then, 
to  the  mixed  assemblage  of  grooms,  spectators,  and 
judges,  "  is  the  horse  all  right?  " 

Tybalt  was, —  absolutely  uninjured,  marvellously 
enough, —  and  upon  perceiving  this,  Harriet  took  the 
reins  from  the  panting  animal's  neck,  and  turning  to 
Verney  said  coolly,  "  Put  me  up." 

"Put  you  up?"  he  repeated,  staring.  "Well,  I 
should  say  not!  Do  you  think  I  would  let  you  ride 
him  again  after  a  close  call  like  that?  " 

"  Certainly,"  she  said.  "  I  '11  have  to  try  it  again, 
you  know. " 

"  But  you  might  have  been  killed ! "  he  expostulated. 

She  looked  him  straight  in  the  eye.  "  You  don't 
want  them  all  to  think  me  a  coward,  do  you  ?  You  'd 
do  it  yourself  in  my  place,  you  know  you  would." 

She  had  appealed  to  the  right  chord  in  Verney,  his 
admiration  for  nerve,  and  he  put  her  on  her  horse 

[185] 


The  Politician 

again  without  another  word.  A  burst  of  hand-clapping 
as  Harriet  made  ready  for  her  last  attempt  to  get  over 
the  fourth  jump  showed  that  the  spectators  shared 
Verney's  admiration ;  and  when  the  feat  was  finally 
accomplished  with  great  ease  and  in  perfect  form,  the 
applause  and  enthusiasm  were  unbounded. 

That  night  at  the  dance  which  was  given  at  the  club- 
house and  for  which  many  New  York  people,  including 
Mrs.  Ordway  and  her  guests,  stayed  over  night,  Har- 
riet was  the  centre  of  attention.  Her  accident  and 
courage  that  afternoon  had  won  her  notice  from  every 
one;  and  then,  too,  the  news  that  she  was  an  heiress 
had  spread  about,  and  an  heiress  is  an  heiress,  whether 
she  comes  from  Chicago  or  New  York. 

Verney  from  his  place  among  the  stags  at  one  end 
of  the  room  noticed  gloomily  and  with  unjustifiable 
irritation  that  she  was  in  danger  of  being  the  most 
popular  girl  in  the  room.  It  was  very  hard  to  see  all 
those  Johnnies  out  on  the  floor  falling  all  over  each 
other  to  get  a  dance,  when  he  knew  that  he  would  have 
had  no  difficulty  at  all  in  getting  one  if  he  had  allowed 
himself  to  ask.  But  he  wouldn't.  That  was  just  the 
point.  For  in  order  to  prove  to  himself  that  he  had 
entirely  and  completely  conquered  the  temptation  to 
try  to  get  himself  a  rich  wife,  which  had  assailed  him 
the  other  afternoon  in  his  office,  he  had  set  himself  to 
the  task  of  not  dancing  with  Harriet  that  evening. 
But  though  he  had  succeeded  so  far  in  his  deter- 
mination that  he  had  let  half  the  evening  go  without 
BO  much  as  speaking  to  her,  he  found  that  he  was 

[186] 


The  World  May  End 

quite  unable  to  dance  with  any  one  else.  Even  the 
fascinating  Mrs.  Gibbs  failed  to  move  him  from  his 
place  in  a  group  of  men  where  he  stood  with  folded 
arms  and  set  lips,  staring  morosely  out  over  the  whirl- 
ing ballroom  in  a  vain  attempt  not  to  see  the  wistful 
glances  which  Harriet,  ignorant  of  the  reason  for  such 
conduct  and  expecting  much  after  the  feeling  he  had 
displayed  at  the  time  of  the  accident,  sent  him  from 
time  to  time  over  the  heads  of  a  ring  of  admirers. 

Cora  Gibbs  began  by  ridiculing  him  and  ended  with 
blandishment;  but  Achilles  steadfastly  refused  to  stop 
sulking  and  dance  with  her,  and  she  eventually  went 
away  in  a  rage  on  the  arm  of  a  delighted  partner. 
Verney's  misery  at  last  became  so  apparent  that  it 
attracted  the  attention  of  one  Billy  Vandewater,  a  man 
of  good  family,  bad  reputation,  and  attractive  per- 
sonality. 

"  Why  weep  ye  by  the  tide,  laddie ;  why  weep  ye  by 
the  tide?  "  he  carolled  sympathetically,  strolling  up  to 
where  Verney  stood. 

"  Not  dancing  to-night,"  Ellis  replied  shortly. 

"  No  ?  "  said  Vandewater.  "  Anything  the  matter 
with  your  legs,  or  is  n't  She  here  ?  " 

"  Wrong  again,"  said  Verney  ferociously  (he  was 
just  waiting  for  some  one  upon  whom  to  avenge  his 
quarrel  with  fate,  and  Vandewater,  although  he  knew 
him  very  well,  had  been  almost  impertinent)  ;  "  I  'm  not 
dancing  because  I  thought  you  would  be  and  I  could 
then  avoid  talking  to  you." 

The  other  stared  a  little,  surprised  by  such  warmth, 
[187] 


The  Politician 

and  then  remarked  coldly,  "  Nice  little  temper  you  've 
got,  Ellis.  But  I  won't  trouble  you  any  longer  with 
my  presence  if  you'll  present  me  to  that  Miss  Rand 
from  Chicago  they  're  all  making  such  a  fuss  about. 
I  saw  you  talking  to  her  this  afternoon  at  the  show 
when  she  was  thrown." 

"You  want  to  meet  her?"  asked  the  Politician,  his 
eye  side-wise  as  if  he  were  considering  the  proposition 
favorably. 

"  That 's  about  the  size  of  it,"  assented  Vandewater 
expectantly. 

"  Well,  you  can't !  "  announced  Verney  violently ;  "  I 
won't  present  you  or  anybody  like  you !  Ahoy  there ! 
Gladys ! "  he  added,  addressing  Miss  Leverich,  who  hap- 
pened along  at  this  moment  with  a  stout,  bald-headed 
man  in  tow. 

Gladly  the  young  girl  came  to  a  halt.  Vernor  Ellis 
was  an  ideal  of  hers,  and  she  had  been  promenading 
on  one  excuse  or  another  between  every  dance  directly 
in  front  of  him  all  the  evening  in  the  hope  of  realizing 
a  dance  with  him. 

"  Where  did  you  come  from  ?  "  she  asked,  as  if  she 
had  only  just  seen  him. 

"  I  've  been  waiting  for  a  dance  with  you,"  said 
Verney.  "  May  I  have  the  next  ?  " 

"  But  it 's  mine,"  interposed  the  bald-headed  one : 
*'  we  were  only  waiting  for  the  music  to  start." 

"  So  was  I,"  said  Verney,  placing  a  tentative  arm 
about  Miss  Leverich's  waist  as  he  saw  that  the  musicians 
were  about  to  begin  to  play,  and  before  her  rightful 

[  188  ] 


The  World  May  End 

partner  could  interfere,  he  had  glided  away  with  his 
prize  to  the  strains  of  a  waltz. 

"  Upon  my  word,"  said  Bald-head,  goggling  after 
them,  "  if  Ellis  has  n't  got  his  nerve !  " 

Gladys  Leverich,  little  curly-headed  thing  with 
pointed  chin  perpetually  in  motion  and  large  and 
lambent  eyes,  exerted  all  her  powers  to  entertain  her 
partner,  whose  piratical  method  of  obtaining  the  dance 
was  just  to  her  taste,  and  more  or  less  succeeded.  After 
all,  Verney  thought,  it  would  n't  do  to  mope  with  the 
men  all  evening.  He  must  dance  and  have  the  appear- 
ance of  enjoying  himself  or  his  abstinence  might  be 
attributed  by  Harriet  to  its  true  cause. 

"  I  can  always  tell  a  debutante  from  a  girl  who 
has  been  out  a  year  or  two,"  he  said  to  Miss  Leverich. 
"  Can't  you?  " 

"  Why  ?  "  asked  Gladys,  giggling  expectantly. 

"  By  the  way  they  treat  their  partners  at  a  cotillion. 
A  debutante  never  wastes  time  talking  to  the  partner 
she  's  with,  but  spends  it  gazing  out  over  the  sea  of 
dancers,  Penelope-wise,  in  quest  of  Ulysses  with  a  favor, 
perched  on  the  edge  of  her  chair  already  to  spring. 
Men  as  individuals  don't  interest  her,  only  collectively, 
as  a  means  of  proving  to  the  other  debutantes  how 
popular  she  is." 

Miss  Leverich  laughed.  "  And  the  girls  who  have 
been  out  a  season?  " 

"  Ah,  they  're  different !  They  've  got  some  sense ! 
That 's  why  I  'd  rather  dance  with  them  [this  was 
Glady's  second  year],  they  know  their  business  bet- 

[189] 


The  Politician 

ter,  stick  to  the  bird  in  the  hand,  you  know,  and  devote 
every  energy  to  making  him  think  he 's  the  one  and 
only  real  thing." 

"  But  what  good  does  it  do  her?  What  is  the 
result?" 

"  The  result,  dear  child,"  said  Verney,  looking  down 
at  her  as  they  danced,  with  his  wisest,  most  elder- 
brotherly  look,  "  is  that  her  partner  comes  back  for 
another  dance  and  the  debutante's  partner  does  n't." 

"Will  you,  do  you  suppose?"  asked  Miss  Leverich 
pointedly.  Verney  said  he  would, —  and  did.  Several 
times.  Dancing  after  that,  first  with  his  sister,  and 
then  with  a  covey  of  the  debutantes  whose  methods  he 
had  just  been  deriding;  his  sparkling  eye,  quick  smile 
and  the  spots  of  color  on  his  cheek  bones  lending  his 
assumed  gayety  such  an  appearance  of  reality  that  Har- 
riet, when  her  partners  gave  her  time  to  think  of  any- 
thing else,  observed  it  with  amazement  not  unmingled 
with  reproach. 

How  could  he  have  such  a  good  time  without  once 
dancing  with  her?  Had  she  mistaken  his  interest  in 
her,  then?  It  was  inexplicable. 

Ellis  having  run  off  a  string  of  three  or  four  buds 
in  succession,  had  asked  a  young  matron  whom  he 
had  only  just  met,  to  dance, —  when  he  caught  sight 
of  Harriet  dancing  for  the  second  time  with  Billy 
Vandewater,  who  had  managed  to  get  introduced  with- 
out Verney 's  help.  The  sight  put  the  finishing  touch 
to  his  ill-humor,  occasioned  by  his  resolve  not  to  dance 
with  her  himself,  and  his  chafing  spirit  broke  its  bonds 

[190] 


The  World  May  End 

at  last.  With  manifest  confusion  but  great  firmness 
nevertheless,  he  excused  himself  from  dancing  with  the 
young  matron  on  the  ground  that  he  was  suddenly 
feeling  very  ill,  and  murmuring  something  about  "  hop- 
ing for  another  chance,"  left  her  and  sped  over  toward 
Harriet. 

The  girl  had  stopped  dancing  and  she  and  Vande- 
water  were  standing  by  a  frappe  table  when  Verney 
came  up.  She  looked  very  lovely  in  her  gleaming  gown 
with  pearls  on  her  throat.  The  enviable  distinction  pos- 
sessed by  one  girl  in  ten  of  looking  as  well  at  the  end  of 
a  dance  as  at  the  beginning  was  hers,  and  not  so  much 
as  a  lock  of  her  beautiful  dark  hair,  which  stood  out 
at  the  back  of  her  head  in  a  great  knot  high  enough 
to  reveal  her  neck  in  all  its  young  charm,  was  dis- 
arranged. 

"When  are  you  going  to  dance  with  me?"  said 
Verney,  to  whom  her  loveliness  was  revealed  as  if  for 
the  first  time.  "  I  've  been  waiting  for  a  chance  to  ask 
you  all  the  evening."  He  realized  suddenly  with  what 
intensity  he  had  been  longing  for  the  privilege  he  had 
thought  to  deny  himself.  "  When  may  I  have  one  ?  " 

Harriet  hesitated.  She  knew  that  was  n't  strictly 
true  and  that  Verney  had  wilfully  neglected  her  up 
to  that  moment,  no  matter  what  had  changed  his  mind 
now,  and  she  was  n't  sure  she  felt  like  forgiving  him  so 
easily  as  that.  He  had  been  very  unkind. 

"  I  hope  soon,"  she  said,  looking  at  her  fan. 

Vandewater  sensed  the  snub  implied  by  her  refusal 
to  name  any  particular  dance  for  the  one  she  was  to 

[191] 


The  Politician 

have  with  Verney,  though  it  was  ever  so  slight, —  and 
smiled  triumphantly. 

"  Not  this  one  at  any  rate,"  he  asserted  with  delib- 
erate swagger ;  "  I  'm  dancing  this  one  with  Miss  Rand." 

The  red-veined  eyes  of  incontinence  and  the  clear 
high  gaze  of  integrity  met,  and  with  the  meeting  a 
spark  seemed  to  fly  as  if  for  proof  of  contact. 

"  You  're  mistaken,"  said  Ellis ;  "  this  happens  to  be 
the  very  dance  I  had  planned  to  have  with  Miss  Rand." 

"  I  said  it  was  mine,"  returned  the  other,  scowling 
dreadfully  while  the  color  began  to  creep  up  into  his 
dark  face. 

"  No,  you  've  been  fortunate  enough  to  dance  twice 
with  her  already, —  that 's  enough  for  you." 

**  Miss  Rand  thought  not,"  replied  Vandewater,  still 
polite,  though  he  trembled  with  rage ;  "  she  promised 
me  this  dance,  too.  Did  you  not  ? "  He  turned  to 
Harriet  as  he  spoke. 

The  bewildered  and  very  much  dismayed  bone  of  con- 
tention cast  the  two  young  men  a  troubled,  appealing 
look  as  they  stood  glaring  at  each  other  like  two  young 
game  cocks  picking  a  fight ;  that  most  ancient  of  all 
instincts  in  the  male  human  being,  the  instinct  to  quar- 
rel for  the  possession  of  a  woman,  fully  aroused  in 
them  both. 

"  I  think  I  won't  dance  this  dance  at  all,"  she  said 
at  last ;  "  it 's  nearly  over  now  ( the  music  for  the  dance 
had  indeed  begun  long  ago),  so  I  can't  very  well  give 
it  away.  Let's  just  stay  here  and  talk,  it*s  so  much 
-cooler ! "  and  she  smiled  diplomatically  over  her  fan 

[192] 


The  World  May  End 

first  at  one  heated  young  man  and  then  at  the  other. 
It  has  been  recorded  that  she  was  a  clever  girl. 

Nevertheless  both  cave-men  were  disappointed  in  her 
decision,  for  each  had  expected  to  triumph  over  the 
other  —  to  crush,  metaphorically  speaking,  the  other's 
skull  with  his  wooden  clut>  and  bear  the  woman  off  as 
his  prize, — and  here  was  the  woman  herself,  who  was  n't 
supposed  to  take  part  in  the  conflict,  jumping  in  and 
settling  the  thing  peaceable-like  and  calling  it  a  draw- 
How  uninteresting  and  civilized !  Yet  Verney,  because 
his  wit  was  superior  to  the  other's,  managed  to  lend 
to  this  unsatisfactory  outcome  of  his  and  Vandewater's 
measuring  of  clubs,  the  appearance  of  victory  for  him- 
self by  turning  to  Harriet  the  minute  she  had  made 
her  impartial  pronouncement  on  the  subject,  and  ask- 
ing her  for  the  next  dance,  which  Harriet  without 
attempting  to  disguise  her  pleasure  in  the  request,  im- 
mediately accorded  him.  Whereupon  Vandewater  having 
sense  enough  to  perceive  that  he  had  been  out-generaled, 
bowed  in  acknowledgment  of  his  rival's  successful  coup 
and  left  them,  muttering  something  about  a  partner 
he  had  forgotten. 

And  then  they  began  to  dance,  Ellis  and  Miss  Rand. 
Lightly  and  gracefully  he  guided,  gracefully  and 
lightly  she  followed,  and  quick-beating  hearts,  shining 
eyes,  and  deepening  color  testified  to  their  delight  in 
their  mutual  accord.  They  did  n't  have  to  say  any- 
thing, their  nearness  was  enough.  Through  the  glass 
doors  of  the  ballroom  blew  in  the  sweet  autumn  air 
from  the  Jersey  Hills,  and  a  line  or  two  from  a  favorite 
13  [  193  ] 


The  Politician 

poem  of  his  ran  persistently  in  Verney's  head  as  he 
danced,  because,  he  supposed,  of  its  appropriateness  to 
his  mood  and  to  his  feeling  that  in  dancing  with  Har- 
riet he  was  doing  something  he  very  much  liked  to  do 
for  the  last  time,  and  the  very  sweetness  of  the  moment 
convinced  him  that  it  was  for  the  last  time. 

"  One  more  night  am  I  deified ;  who  knows  but  the 
world  may  end  to-night?  "  it  went  repeating  itself  over 
and  over  in  his  brain.  Yet,  though  he  would  never 
again  so  indulge  himself,  he  was  conscious  that  it  was 
wrong  to  indulge  himself  at  all.  Where  was  his  deter- 
mination to  fight  his  base  temptation  to  pay  any  atten- 
tion to  this  rich  girl  in  the  hope  of  extricating  himself 
from  his  difficulties  by  means  of  her  wealth?  Where 
was  the  remorse  he  felt  when  it  so  nearly  mastered 
him  on  another  occasion?  Something,  some  other  power 
he  was  not  acquainted  with,  seemed  determined  to  make 
him  play  the  part  of  a  cad  against  his  will.  Else 
surely  with  every  atom  of  right  feeling  within  him 
protesting,  with  every  dictate  of  conscience  against  it, 
he  would  not  now  be  dancing  with  her. 

Quite  unconscious  of  the  troubled  thought  that  filled 
her  partner's  brain,  Harriet,  on  the  other  hand,  was 
thinking  only  as  her  step  answered  the  entrancing  call  of 
the  waltz  music  in  perfect  accord  with  his,  and  she  felt 
the  firm,  delicate  pressure  of  his  arm  about  her,  that 
a  perfect  moment  had  been  given  her;  that  in  spite 
of  his  strange  conduct  earlier  in  the  evening,  her  friend 
after  all  had  wished  to  dance  with  her,  and  in  that 
thought  she  was  happy.  What  did  it  matter  then  what 

[194] 


The  World  May  End 

her  feeling  for  him  was  called,  whether  love  or  friend- 
ship ? 

Mrs.  Gibbs,  as  she  watched  them  from  a  doorway, 
all  unobserved  by  the  oblivious  pair,  remembering  what 
it  was  like  to  waltz  with  Verney,  and  that  he  had  refused 
to  dance  with  her  that  evening,  clenched  her  hands  in 
jealous  rage,  and  hurriedly  left  the  ballroom. 

"  One  more  night  am  I  deified,"  sang  Ellis's  heartr 
as  he  danced  with  the  keen  joy  of  one  who  does  con- 
sciously something  he  knows  to  be  wrong  just  because 
he  wants  to  do  it ;  '*  who  knows  but  the  world  may  end 
to-night?" 


[195] 


CHAPTER  XI 

VERNEY  TAKES  THE  VEIL 

ALL  the  way  down  to  New  York  on  the  train 
Verney  reproached  himself  for  dancing  with 
Harriet  when  he  had  made  up  his  mind  not 
to  do  so.  He  had  left  the  ballroom  immediately  after 
that  one  forbidden  waltz  with  her,  and  with  a  hurried 
word  about  having  to  get  back  to  town  that  night  for 
explanation  of  his  abrupt  departure,  had  fled  for  the 
station  and  caught  the  last  train  down.  As  a  matter  of 
fact,  however,  he  had  intended  to  stay  over  Sunday  with 
the  rest  of  them ;  but  with  the  ceasing  of  the  music  to 
jB?hich  he  and  Miss  Rand  had  been  dancing,  he  was 
overwhelmed  with  remorse  and  shame  to  think  that  he 
had  broken  his  resolution  so  easily ;  and  in  mortal  fear 
that  he  was  on  the  point  of  yielding  again  to  the  temp- 
tation of  paying  court  to  the  heiress  in  earnest,  he  had 
prudently,  like  the  warriors  in  Caesar's  Commentaries, 
'*'  sought  safety  in  flight." 

For  that  day  had  made  it  clear  to  him  that  the 
nature  of  his  temptation  lay  not  alone  in  Harriet's  mil- 
lions, and  that  the  necessity  for  giving  up  her  society 
in  the  future  was  very  real.  First,  by  means  of  the 
accident  at  the  horse-show  and  his  own  surprising  mani- 

[196] 


Verney  Takes  the  Veil 

festation  of  emotion  on  that  occasion,  and  second,  by 
means  of  his  little  brush  with  Vandewater,  which  had 
proved  to  him  that  he  was  capable  of  feeling  jealousy 
where  she  was  concerned,  he  had  discovered  that  it  was 
by  no  means  out  of  the  question  for  him  to  fall  in  love 
with  Miss  Rand. 

This  possibility  rendered  the  situation  more  difficult 
in  his  eyes  because  it  made  the  danger  of  his  eventually 
asking  her  to  marry  him  much  more  serious,  and  he 
emphatically  did  not  wish  to  marry.  Of  that  he  was 
as  certain,  now  that  he  had  come  to  his  right  mind  in 
regard  to  that  base  idea  of  his  that  he  would  marry 
for  noney  (which  was  in  his  opinion  the  sole  practical 
reason  for  marrying  at  all),  as  that  he  did  not  wish 
to  give  up  politics,  and  his  belief  that  he  could  not 
do  both  was  deep-rooted. 

"  You  're  a  fine  fellow,  Verney,"  he  said  to  himself 
in  disgust,  as  he  settled  down  in  the  smoking-car  too 
absorbed  in  abusing  himself  for  having  failed  so 
signally  to  stick  by  his  principles,  even  to  light  a  cigar. 
"  What  on  earth  are  you  about,  anyway  ?  What  kind 
of  blackguard  are  you?  The  sort  that  marries  a  richi 
girl  and  spends  her  money  trying  to  see  how  high  he 
can  climb  on  the  political  ladder,  and  neglects  her  in 
the  process  ?  Answer,  '  No.'  Well,  then,  have  n't  you 
strength  of  mind  enough  to  give  up  seeing  her  before 
things  go  any  further?  Well,  I  should  hope  so !  Then 
stop  dancing  with  her  and  talking  with  her  and  going 
to  see  her  all  the  time !  Stop  behaving  like  a  weak- 

[197] 


The  Politician 

minded  child  and  make  up  your  mind  like  a  man,  and 
when  it 's  made  up,  stick  to  it !  " 

But  as  he  sat  frowning  in  the  stuffy  car,  his  arms 
folded,  his  teeth  catching  his  lower  lip,  he  realized 
miserably,  with  an  infinite  self-pity,  that  he  had  made 
up  his  mind,  that  that  was  why  he  had  left  the  dance, 
why  he  did  not  stay  in  the  country  with  the  rest,  why 
he  was  sitting  there  in  the  almost  empty  car  at  that 
late  hour,  speeding  back  to  New  York,  the  only  man 
in  the  whole  world  who  was  not  privileged  to  stay  and 
dance  with  Harriet. 

He  found  his  father  up,  when  he  reached  the  house 
in  Twelfth  Street  and  let  himself  in  with  his  latchkey. 
Mr.  Ellis  was  also  alone,  for  Mrs.  Ellis  had  gone  out 
to  Ardsley-on-the-Hudson  to  spend  Sunday  with  one  of 
her  married  daughters. 

"  Is  that  you,  Vernor?  "  he  enquired  from  the  top  of 
the  stairs. 

Verney  said  it  was,  and  bounded  upstairs  three  at  a 
time. 

"  Anything  the  matter? "  he  asked  anxiously. 
*'  Could  n't  you  sleep  ?  "  His  father  was  in  bedroom 
gown  and  slippers. 

"  Oh,  I  've  slept  a  little,"  replied  the  older  man  ;  "  but 
I  heard  you  come  in  and  thought  if  we  talked  a  little 
while  it  would  do  me  good.  I  feel  so  restless,  and  I 
have  a  little  pain." 

•"  It 's  cold  in  here,"  said  Verney,  following  him  down 
'the  hall  to  a  spacious  bedroom  at  the  back  of  the  house 
.which  Mr.  Ellis  occupied  now  because  it  was  so  much 

[198] 


Verney  Takes  the  Veil 

quieter,  and  perceiving  that  the  fire  on  the  hearth  had 
nearly  burned  out.  "  It 's  a  cold  night,  if  it  is  only 
September,"  he  said,  and  laying  aside  his  coat  set  him- 
self to  the  task  of  coaxing  up  the  fire.  He  had  a  big 
blaze  in  a  minute.  "  How  is  that,  sir  ? "  he  asked, 
springing  up.  "  And  now,  where  's  the  whiskey  ?  " 

Mr.  Ellis  smiled.  "  You  know  I  don't  take  it  any 
more,  son.  The  doctors  say  it 's  bad  for  me."  But 
he  eyed  the  glasses  and  decanter  Verney  had  taken  from 
a  little  cupboard  in  the  dressing-room,  wistfully. 

"  Oh,  damn  the  doctor !  "  said  Ellis  cheerfully.  "  A 
little  won't  hurt  you ;  it 's  taking  it  all  the  while  that 
hurts.  Here  's  how  !  "  And  he  handed  his  father  one 
glass,  touching  its  rim  as  he  did  so  with  his  own. 

Mr.  Ellis  hesitated. 

"  Pitch  in !  "  commanded  his  son.  "  It  will  do  you 
good.  It 's  my  opinion  you  gave  it  all  up  too  sud- 
denly, father.  That 's  a  good  enough  reason  for  mak- 
ing a  man  feel  sick !  " 

His  father  smiled  and  did  not  gainsay  him,  but 
Verney  feared,  and  he  knew,  that  there  was  deeper  and 
more  serious  cause  for  his  ill  health  than  that.  Only 
a  month  or  two  ago  the  doctor  had  told  the  old  man 
that  while  he  might  live  many  years,  he  would  have  to 
fight  continually  an  organic  disease  which  must  in  the 
end  conquer  him,  since  medical  science  had  failed  to 
discover  a  complete  cure  for  it.  But  because  he  was 
a  man  of  great  character,  of  tender,  loving  heart  and 
superb  courage,  Mr.  Ellis  had  not  permitted  the  doctor 
to  tell  his  wife  or  children.  As  long  as  the  disease  per- 

[199] 


The  Politician 

mitted  him,  as  it  now  did  and  would  be  likely  to  do  until 
the  very  end,  to  go  daily  to  his  office  and  to  keep  his  feet, 
he  intended  to  preserve  his  secret.  That  his  health  was 
not  good  his  family  could  not  help  being  aware  of; 
but  the  grief  and  anxiety  which  knowledge  of  the  name 
of  his  destroyer  would  have  brought  them  they  should 
never  have,  he  had  resolved,  if  it  was  in  his  power  to 
prevent  it.  In  comparison  to  saving  them  that,  the 
loneliness  and  sadness  of  keeping  the  knowledge  to  him- 
self, of  depriving  himself  of  the  sympathy  of  his 
loved  ones,  counted  for  nothing. 

"  Here  's  to  celibacy,  the  most  desirable  of  all  states !  " 
said  Verney,  filling  his  glass  again  and  drinking  it  down 
with  a  kind  of  reckless  gayety.  "  What !  Not  an- 
other? "  to  his  father,  as  Mr.  Ellis  rejected  his  offer 
to  fill  his  glass. 

"  No,  my  boy,"  said  the  older  man ;  "  one  's  enough. 
I  took  that  only  to  oblige  you." 

Verney  laughed.  "  Was  it  the  toast  you  did  n't 
like?"  he  said.  "But  I  couldn't  expect  you  to  drink 
that.  It  would  be  like  asking  you  to  wish  I  were  n't 
here.  And  of  course  I  don't  mean  that !  It 's  such  a 
lot  of  fun  to  be  here ! "  he  added,  with  a  laugh  that 
did  n't  sound  as  if  he  quite  meant  what  he  said.  "  I 
don't  know  that  I  've  ever  thanked  you  enough  for  that." 

His  father  looked  quickly  up  at  his  son  standing  in 
his  shirt  sleeves,  glass  in  one  hand,  decanter  in  the  other, 
his  face  flushed,  his  eyes  brilliant.  He  did  n't  know  him 
so  very  well,  he  and  Verney  really  saw  so  little  of  each 
other;  he  was  in  better  touch,  perhaps,  with  Clinton, 

[200] 


Verney  Takes  the  Veil 

his  oldest  son,  who  was  a  partner  in  the  law  firm  of 
Ellis  &  Ellis ;  but  he  was  exceedingly  fond  of  Verney 
just  the  same,  and  secretly  very  proud  of  the  boy's 
success  in  politics.  He  had  a  vague  suspicion  now  that 
Verney  for  some  reason  was  unhappy  that  evening;  but 
the  animation  and  vim  with  which  his  son  went  on  to 
give  him  an  account  of  the  day's  doings  at  the  horse-show 
and  the  dance  banished  it  at  once. 

"  Then  you  had  a  good  time?  "  he  said  satisfiedly. 

"  Wonderful !  "  replied  Verney,  "  never  had  a  better !  " 

Mr.  Ellis  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  sighed  con- 
tentedly. "  And  the  Baby?  "  he  said.  "  Did  she  have 
a  good  time  too?  " 

"  Best  ever !  "  said  Verney  from  the  hearth-rug,  where 
he  was  sitting  cross-legged,  and  proceeded  to  give  a 
glowing,  highly  colored  account  of  Carol's  popularity 
at  the  ball  to  her  doting  father,  old  Mr.  Ellis  nodding 
his  head  and  smiling  delightedly  the  while. 

It  was  almost  as  good  as  having  them  with  him,  his 
wife  and  daughter,  to  hear  about  their  good  times.  Now 
that  the  doctors  had  told  him  the  nature  of  his  illness, 
the  greatest  pleasure  he  had  was  to  have  them  with  him, 
except  the  thought  that  they  were  away  enjoying  them- 
selves. His  being  lonely  did  n't  count  beside  that. 
And  that  was  the  pathos,  the  injustice,  of  his  keeping 
his  secret  to  himself.  If  they  had  known,  his  wife  and 
the  daughter  who  was  still  at  home,  who  loved  him  as 
dearly  as  he  loved  them,  they  would  never  have  left  him 
alone  a  moment. 

"  I  wish  Carol  had  come  back  with  me ;  I  wish  mother 
[201] 


The  Politician 

were  n't  away  too,"  said  Verney,  prompted  by  a  sudden 
acute  perception,  inspired  by  his  own  wretchedness,  of 
his  father's  feeling  of  loneliness. 

"  Oh,  no !  I  'd  much  rather  have  Carol  stay  and  have 
a  good  time ;  and  as  for  your  mother,  she 's  been 
promising  Winifred  to  go  out  there  over  Sunday  for  the 
last  month  or  so,"  replied  his  father,  smiling  cheerfully. 
"  And  I  'm  not  deserted,  you  know,  when  I  have  you. 
It 's  a  long  time  since  we  had  a  talk." 

Verney  admitted  with  compunction  that  it  was,  and 
reaching  up,  put  his  hand  over  his  father's  where  it  lay 
on  the  arm  of  his  chair. 

"  How  's  politics  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Ellis,  with  a  pleased 
smile,  knowing  that  no  other  subject  of  conversation 
was  so  dear  to  his  son's  heart. 

Verney's  face  clouded. 

"  I  Jve  been  thinking  of  giving  up  the  leadership  of 
my  District,"  he  said ;  "  my  financial  affairs  are  in  such 
an  awful  way,  I  'm  afraid  I  can't  afford  to  be  leader 
any  longer  —  it  takes  so  much  time  from  the  office." 

"  My  poor  boy,"  said  his  father  commiseratingly ; 
"  that 's  hard,  I  know,  and  I  sympathize  with  you  while 
I  Jm  obliged  to  say  that  I  think  it 's  the  only  right  thing 
for  you  to  do." 

"  I  expected  you  would  feel  that  way  about  it,"  re- 
turned Verney.  "  You  always  have  felt  that  way  about 
my  being  in  politics." 

"  And  you  know  why  —  because  I  want  to  see  you 
settled  in  life,  enjoying  an  assured  income,  before  I 
die.  Not  that  I  don't  expect  to  be  with  you  a  long 

[202] 


Verney  Takes  the  Veil 

time  yet,"  he  added,  hastily,  as  Verney  looked  up,  "  only 
it 's  natural,  you  know,  for  a  father  to  feel  that  way. 
If  you  had  children  yourself  you  'd  understand."  Ver- 
ney moved  uneasily. 

"  You  know  I  have  n't  any  money  to  give  you, 
Verney,"  Mr.  Ellis  continued.  "  I  've  met  with  great 
reverses  this  last  year  or  so  and  have  been  unfortunate 
in  getting  rid  of  some  of  my  property."  He  stopped 
and  sighed. 

"  I  know,  sir,"  said  the  younger  man,  with  feeling. 
"  But  don't  let  it  worry  you  on  my  account." 

"I  don't  want  it  to,"  said  his  father;  "that's  why 
I  'm  so  urgent  that  you  should  give  up  politics  and 
stick  to  the  law.  I  '11  always  have  enough  to  leave  your 
mother  and  the  Baby  plenty  when  I  die,  and  your  other 
sisters  are  married.  As  for  your  brothers,  why,  they  're 
well  placed.  Clinton  will  inherit  the  business  of  Ellis 
&  Ellis,  and  Benjamin,  though  he 's  not  rich,  has  at 
least  a  settled  salary  he  can  depend  upon.  So  you  see 
it 's  on  my  youngest  son's  account  that  I  most  regret 
that  I  have  so  little  to  leave  my  children  when  I  die." 

"  Don't  talk  of  dying,"  said  his  son,  who  would  have 
taken  his  father's  words  more  to  heart  if  he  had  only 
known  what  the  doctors  had  known  a  long  time,  and 
what  Mr.  Ellis  knew  now.  "  I  tell  you  you  need  n't 
bother  about  me!  I  can  take  care  of  myself." 

"  You  can  if  you  will, —  if  you  will  stick  to  your 
practice.  You  've  made  a  splendid  start,  you  know,  and 
you  're  a  brilliant  man,  Vernor.  I  wish  you  would. 
There  's  no  future  in  politics,  believe  me.  No  reward 

[203  ] 


The  Politician 

that  is  a  just  equivalent  for  the  time  spent  in  that  sort 
of  work,  no  money  to  be  made  out  of  it.  At  least  by 
a  man  of  honor,  as  I  know  my  son  is.  Your  leadership 
of  the  District,  for  instance,  what  practical  substantial 
return  has  it  ever  offered  you  that  pays  you  in  actual 
cash  —  which  you  need  in  order  to  live  properly  —  for 
devoting  your  time  to  it  rather  than  to  your  law 
business?  " 

"  I  can't  give  it  up,  though,  father,"  replied  Verney, 
wilfully  avoiding  the  issue  and  speaking  in  low,  de- 
termined tones. 

Mr.  Ellis  looked  at  the  bowed  head  pityingly.  "  It 's 
hard,  I  know, —  it 's  hard  to  ask  it  of  you,  especially 
when  I  know  your  ambitions  are  such  disinterested  ones ; 
when  I  know  you  're  the  kind  of  politician  the  country 
is  n't  ashamed  of  and  would  delight  to  honor ;  but  I  'm 
your  father  and  I  have  to  have  your  material  welfare 
at  heart.  To  me  that  must  come  first." 

"  I  'd  rather  starve  than  back  out  now, —  they  need 
me ! "  said  the  young  man  passionately. 

"  Pooh !  Pooh !  "  said  Mr.  Ellis,  forcing  himself  to 
disregard  that  passion,  not  to  look  at  the  knuckles  of 
his  son's  clinched  hands.  "  Of  course  they  do  in  a  way, 
but  they  could  easily  enough  find  some  one  to  fill  your 
place !  There  's  nothing  in  the  world  so  cruel,  so  cal- 
lous, as  the  political  machine.  The  wheels  must  go 
around,  no  matter  whose  blood  oils  them.  The  harder 
a  man  works,  the  harder  he  is  worked.  And  that 's 
my  son  all  over.  You  would  cheerfully  work  your- 
self to  death  in  the  interests  of  the  Republican  party 

[204] 


Verney  Takes  the  Veil 

and  the  party  would  cheerfully  let  you  —  but  that  9s 
all  the  good  it  would  do  you.  You  know  yourself  how 
you  slave  over  your  District,  yet  what  reward  have  you 
ever  had?  " 

"  I  don't  want  any  reward.  I  only  don't  want  to 
leave  them  in  the  lurch." 

"  Nonsense.  Just  as  if  they  could  n't  get  some  one 
else  to  do  your  work." 

"  I  don't  want  any  one  else  to  do  my  work." 

Mr.  Ellis  gave  it  up.  "  My  poor  boy,"  he  said, 
"  I  wish  I  could  persuade  you.  You  have  character 
enough  to  do  it,  I  know.  At  least  you  were  able  to  re- 
fuse that  chance  to  be  a  judge  you  had  last  year." 

"  Yes,"  said  Verney  harshly,  "  I  was.  I  did  that 
for  the  sake  of  making  money,  because  I  knew  I  could 
make  a  few  more  miserable  dollars  at  the  law,  and  I 
refused  to  go  back  to  Albany  for  the  same  contemptible 
reason.  And  that 's  enough !  I  won't  give  up  the 
leadership !  the  work  I  love !  Holding  office  does  n't 
begin  to  compare,  anyway,  with  the  joy  of  working 
for  one's  District,  of  feeling  yourself  a  part,  no  matter 
if  it 's  only  a  little  insignificant  unit,  of  a  great 
organization  like  the  Republican  party,  and  of  seeing 
that  your  part  is  in  good  order,  that  the  rivet  you  're 
responsible  for  is  in  place !  "  He  rose  in  his  agitation 
and  walked  the  floor  excitedly. 

Mr.  Ellis's  eyes  filled  with  tears.  "  I  'm  sorry,"  he 
said,  "  not  to  appear  to  sympathize  with  you  when  you 
feel  so  strongly.  Perhaps  I  'm  not  a  very  good  father 
to  you  to  advise  you  to  give  up  what  you  care  so  much 

[205] 


The  Politician 

about,  but  that 's  the  best  advice  I  know  how  to  give." 

Verney  was  deeply  moved,  his  father's  tears  stirred 
his  filial  tenderness  to  its  depths. 

"  You  are ! "  he  cried,  flinging  himself  down  at  his 
father's  feet  and  putting  his  hand  on  his  knee ;  "  you  're 
the  very  best  father  a  boy  could  have !  And  if  I  —  if  I 
—  ever  have  a  son  — "  He  hesitated  and  stopped. 

"  Yes  ?  "  said  his  father  wonderingly. 

"  I  '11  try  to  be  just  the  kind  of  father  to  him  you  've 
been  to  me,"  finished  Verney  courageously,  though  for 
all  his  courage  he  could  n't  quite  keep  the  huskiness 
out  of  his  voice. 

His  father  patted  his  head.  "  Come,  we  must  go 
to  bed  now,"  he  said.  "  I  feel  much  better  for  this 
little  visit  with  you."  And  Verney  saw  with  pleasure 
that  Mr.  Ellis's  color  was  much  better  and  his  voice 
firmer. 

The  young  man  sprang  to  his  feet.  "  Oh,  do  you 
sir  ?  "  he  said.  "  Here,  let  me  help  you !  "  And  he 
proceeded  carefully  and  solemnly  to  assist  Mr.  Ellis 
to  bed,  fussing  over  him  as  if  he  had  been  a  child. 
First  the  fire  had  to  be  fixed  for  the  night,  then  a  glass 
of  water  brought,  then  the  light  adjusted,  Verney 
talking  lightly  and  cheerfully  all  the  time  he  was  per- 
forming these  services  about  the  prospect  he  had  of 
receiving  the  nomination  for  Attorney-general  if  Ord- 
way  were  named  for  Governor.  This  bit  of  news 
pleased  and  comforted  Mr.  Ellis  greatly.  The  salary 
was  considerable,  and  it  meant  that  his  son  would  have 

[206] 


Verney  Takes  the  Veil 

a  fixed  sum  to  depend  upon  for  four  years  at  least,  if 
he  were  elected. 

"  Well,  if  you  will  go  in  for  that  kind  of  life,  I  sup- 
pose an  Attorney-generalship  would  make  it  really  pos- 
sible. And  of  course  the  office  would  help  your  general 
practice  of  law." 

"  It  would  make  everything  right  for  me,"  replied 
Verney.  "  The  salary  's  about  eight  thousand  a  year, 
I  believe,  and  with  that  amount  assured,  I  don't  think 
I  'd  have  to  give  up  my  District  after  all,  at  least  not 
for  four  years." 

"  Perhaps,  but  oh,  my  son !  If  I  only  had  the  money 
I  once  had  it  would  be  so  different  for  you !  You  could 
climb  as  high  as  you  like ! " 

"  Oh,  I  '11  get  high  enough !  Don't  you  care,  father. 
How's  this  light?" 

"  Just  right,  thank  you.  I  think  I  shall  sleep  now," 
returned  his  father  from  the  bed. 

"  Then  good-night,"  said  Verney. 

"  Good-night,"  said  Mr.  Ellis,  and  then,  just  as  the 
young  man  was  closing  the  door,  "  Oh,  Verney ! " 

Verney  in  reply,  hand  on  door-knob,  patiently: 
"  Yes,  sir?  " 

Mr.  Ellis, .  irrelevantly :  "  What  was  that  toast  you 
gave  when  we  were  having  our  whiskey  ?  " 

"What  toast?  Oh,"  with  sudden  recollection,  "you 
mean  *  to  celibacy  '  ?  " 

"  Yes,  what  made  you  say  that  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know,"  with  a  forced  laugh.  "  Only 
[207] 


The  Politician 

that  I  'm  too  busy  to  marry,  I  guess.  You  know  I  've 
always  said  that  if  I  ever  married  I  Jd  have  to  hire  some- 
body to  live  with  my  wife ! " 

The  old  man  smiled  at  this  cynicism.  Nevertheless 
his  voice  was  earnest  when  he  said :  "  But  I  don't  like 
you  to  say  that.  You  should  marry,  you  know ;  it 's 
only  right  and  natural.  I  want  you  to  have  a  home 
of  your  own  and  a  wife  and  family,  Verney,  some  day ; 
and  I  hope  you  will." 

Verney  swallowed  very  hard.  "  I  hope  so,  sir,"  he 
said,  recognizing  for  the  first  time  in  its  poignancy 
that  he  had  cherished  a  hope  of  this  kind  subconsciously 
ever  since  he  had  become  a  grown  man,  and  that  with- 
out it  he  was  going  to  be  very  lonely. 

"  Good-night,  father,"  he  said  gently  and  without 
a  trace  of  this  feeling  in  his  voice. 

Outside  in  the  dark  hall  he  stood  perfectly  still  while 
the  hardship  of  the  thing  he  had  made  up  his  mind  to  do 
slowly  and  clearly  revealed  itself  to  him.  It  had  been 
difficult  for  him  to  grasp  in  the  abstract  the  magnitude 
of  the  sacrifice  he  was  contemplating  in  resigning  his 
hope  of  married  happiness,  but  now  that  Harriet  Rand 
had  provided  him  with  a  concrete  example  of  what  it 
might  mean  to  give  it  up,  understanding  had  come  to 
him  with  the  force  of  a  blow.  And  with  his  enlighten- 
ment a  kind  of  rage  possessed  him,  a  feeling  that  he 
was  meant  to  be  happy  as  well  as  successful,  and  that 
fate  had  no  right  to  ask  of  him  that  he  should  choose 
between  one  and  the  other,  and  forbid  that  he  should  be 
both. 

[208] 


Verney  Takes  the  Veil 

"  I  won't  stand  it ! "  he  said  to  himself  in  a  spirit  of 
revolt,  and  running  rapidly  downstairs.  "  I  won't  let 
it  bother  me  any  longer.  Not  to-day  at  least.  I  've 
had  enough  for  one  day !  Let 's  see,  it 's  only  one 
o'clock.  I  '11  get  some  men  in  and  have  an  old-fashioned 
party ! "  He  threw  back  his  head,  standing  all  alone 
in  the  lower  hall  and  laughed,  his  eyes  began  to  sparkle 
and  a  feverish  color  rose  to  his  cheek  bones. 

He  ran  to  the  butler's  room  at  the  back  of  the  house 
and  beat  on  the  door.  "  Wilson ! "  he  called,  "  get 
up !  There  's  going  to  V  a  party !  "  Hardly  waiting 
for  the  man's  sleepy  "  AT  right,  sir,"  he  tore  to  the 
telephone  and  called  up  a  number  of  choice  spirits, 
trusty  night-owls  that  he  knew  he  could  count  on  find- 
ing alive  and  awake  at  that  hour.  Tommy  Beekman 
he  found,  as  he  knew  he  should,  at  Brooke's  playing 
bridge,  Harold  Alden  at  the  Yale  Club,  and  with  Robin 
Hill,  who  lived  next  door,  and  three  of  the  Scott 
brothers  from  Eighteenth  Street,  he  had  what  he  called 
a  "  full  house." 

None  of  them  seemed  at  all  surprised  at  Ellis's  rather 
unusual  summons.  Verney  was  celebrating,  was  he? 
That  was  all  right.  Would  they  come  and  help? 
Watch  them.  And  come  they  did,  arriving  by  motor 
and  on  foot  one  after  another,  just  as  Verney  and  the 
faithful  Wilson  had  finished  setting  out  the  things  to 
drink  and  smoke  which  formed  the  leading  features  of 
the  impromptu  entertainment,  a  huge  silver  punch  bowl 
figuring  most  prominently. 

"  Well,  well !  And  well  again,"  said  Tommy  Beek- 
14  [  209  1 


The  Politician 

man,  who  was  the  last  to  arrive.     "  What  is  little  Verney 
up  to  now?  " 

"  He 's  celebrating,  he  says,"  answered  Carrington 
Scott,  youngest  of  the  three  Scott  brothers  present, 
"  but  he  won't  tell  us  what  about." 

"  Ah,  Tommy  !  "  said  Ellis,  "  I  've  been  waiting  for 
you.  Good  man  to  come !  "  And  he  pushed  the  silver 
punch-bowl  and  several  specimen  ingredients  for  the 
mixture  toward  Beekman,  who  could  mix  a  punch  that 
the  most  expert  denizen  of  the  region  behind  the  bar 
could  not  hope  to  emulate. 

"  Make  a  drink !  "  comma' ,  Jed  Verney,  leaning  toward 
his  friend  and  laughing ;  "  make  it  sky-high  and  sky 
blue!  Make  it  strong  enough  to  kill  care!  Make  it 
deep  enough  to  drown  sorrow !  Make  it  as  sweet  as 
the  kiss  that  hopeless  fancy  paints  on  lips  that  are  for 
others !  Make  it  as  cool  as  Heaven,  as  hot  as  hell- 
fire!  Make  its  blend  the  essence  of  flowers  and  so  far 
from  the  taste  of  tears  that  grief  shall  be  a  stranger 
when  we  drink  it!  Make  it — "  He  stopped,  and  the 
men  around  the  table,  who  had  been  staring  at  him  in 
fascinated  admiration  caught  the  infection  of  his 
riotous  gayety,  artificial  though  it  was,  and  with  one 
accord  broke  into  applause. 

"  Go  on,"  they  entreated ;  "  go  on !  " 

"  Make  it, — "  began  Ellis  again,  then  he  sat  down 
suddenly,  smiling  confidentially  at  Beekman.  "  Make 
it  anything  you  like,  Tommy,  old  boy,"  he  said,  "  so 
long  as  you  make  enough  of  it ! " 

[210} 


Verney  Takes  the  Veil 

Which,  as  a  closing  sentiment,  was  loudly  approved 
by  all. 

The  punch  completed,  Verney  was  on  his  feet  again 
proposing  a  toast.  "  To  celibacy,  most  desirable  of  all 
states  !  "  he  said. 

The  half-raised  glasses  of  the  other  men  came  to  a 
halt. 

"  Oh,  come !  "  they  said.  "  Can't  you  think  of  some- 
thing more  cheerful  than  that?  For  a  toast?  " 

"  No,"  said  Verney ;  "  it 's  my  party,  and  every  man 
must  do  as  I  say,  so  hurry  up  and  drink  it ! " 

His  domineering  eye  won  the  day  and  his  guests 
drank  obediently.  All,  that  is,  except  Larry  Scott,  the 
eldest  of  the  six  brothers,  who  was  present  and  who 
happened  to  be  engaged. 

"  I  can't  drink  it,"  he  protested ;  "  I  'm  going  to  be 
married." 

"  Can't  be  helped,"  said  Verney ;  "  every  one  must 
drink  it,  so  down  you  go ! "  He  seized  Scott  by  the 
shoulder  and  pinned  him  firmly  to  his  chair. 

"  It  is  n't  polite  to  your  host  not  to.  Besides,  we 
did ! "  cried  the  others,  and  with  firm  hands  forced  that 
part  of  the  obnoxious  draught  which  did  not  seek  Larry 
Scott's  shirt  front  down  his  unwilling  throat. 

The  party  was  on. 

At  three  in  the  morning  Verney's  old  nurse  "  Nanna  " 
came  downstairs  and  knocked  at  the  dining-room  door. 

"Mr.  Verney!"  she  called;  "Mr.  Verney!"  But 
nobody  heard  her.  The  revellers  on  the  other  side  of 


The  Politician 

the  door  had  by  that  time  reached  that  most  pleasing 
stage  of  their  revel  when  everything  they  said  was 
funny,  when  roars  of  laughter  greeted  every  remark, 
even  if  it  was  only  "  You  're  another,"  or  "  Please  pass 
the  punch,"  and  were  too  busy  hurling  these  and  similar 
witticisms  at  each  other  to  notice  the  knock. 

Nothing  daunted,  the  old  woman  put  her  face  down 
close  to  the  crack  of  the  door. 

"  O  Mr.  Verney !  "  she  called ;  "  do  come  to  bed ;  it 's 
three  o'clock ! " 

Anxiety  for  his  health,  which  she  knew  late  hours  and 
too  much  to  drink  invariably  affected,  was  her  only 
motive  in  interfering;  not  at  all  a  wish  to  rebuke  him. 
That  kind  of  party  was  familiar  to  her,  and  she  was 
too  used  to  it  to  be  shocked  now.  Ellis  heard  her  this 
time  and  opened  the  door.  His  hair  was  slightly  ruffled 
and  his  eyes  bright  like  sapphires  and  his  color  high. 
Otherwise  he  presented  his  usual  immaculate  appearance 
and  his  speech  though  careful  and  plentifully  inter- 
spersed with  pauses,  was  clear. 

*'  Evening,  Nanna,"  he  said ;  "  come  in  and  have 
something.  Won't  you? "  He  motioned  toward  the 
punch  bowl. 

"  No,  no ! "  she  said  hurriedly ;  "  I  don't  want  any. 
I  want  you  to  come  to  bed,  my  lamb.  You  '11  kill 
yourself  if  you  keep  it  up  much  longer." 

"  Sorry,  Nanna,"  replied  her  lamb,  "  but  I  can't  do 
it.  I  'm  taking  the  veil,  you  know,  and  these  good 
men,"  he  waved  grandiloquently  toward  his  friends 
around  the  table,  "  are  helping  me  take  it." 


Verney  Takes  the  Veil 

"  Promise  you  '11  come  in  an  hour,"  said  the  old 
nurse,  perceiving  at  once  that  he  was  n't  to  be  moved, 
and  backing  out  of  the  room. 

"  All  right.  In  an  hour,  if  I  'm  not  dead  then,"  he 
agreed,  bowing  very  low  with  his  hand  on  his  heart, 
and  adding  as  she  closed  the  door,  "  Ave!  morituri  te 
salutant." 

But  it  was  two  hours  before  the  party  broke  up. 
Verney's  last  conscious  act  when  he  finally  reached  his 
bed  that  night  was  to  turn  his  face  away  so  that  he 
might  not  see  the  portrait  of  Abraham  Lincoln,  whose 
sorrowful  eyes  kept  reproaching  him  from  the  wall. 
But  he  could  not  so  easily  escape  his  guilty  conscience ; 
for  in  turning  he  found  the  sardonic  eyes  of  the 
Emperor  Napoleon  fixed  upon  him  from  the  other  wall, 
the  left  one  winking  at  him  with  mortifying  intelligence* 


[213] 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE  STRUGGLE  AT  SARATOGA 

AS  a  natural  result  of  Verney's  resolution  to 
forswear  every  chance  of  furthering  the 
friendship  between  himself  and  Harriet, 
she  saw  nothing  at  all  of  him  for  the  next  ten  days  or 
so.  They  were  pleasant  ones,  in  a  sense,  because  they 
were  spent  in  New  York,  her  aunt  having  consented  to 
occupy  her  friends  the  Chittendens'  house  for  them 
while  they  took  a  two  months'  trip  abroad,  but  she  was 
much  troubled  by  this  sudden  defection  on  the  part  of 
the  Politician.  She  knew  he  had  been  very  busy,  for 
the  State  Convention  that  was  to  nominate  the  Repub- 
lican candidate  for  Governor,  not  to  mention  the  can- 
didate for  Attorney-general  and  other  important  offices, 
met  in  less  than  a  week,  on  September  14;  but  she 
could  n't  quite  see  why  he  had  n't  time  to  run  in  for 
a  minute  or  even  to  telephone !  Especially  when  he 
knew  how  anxious  she  was  to  hear  how  things  were 
going,  and  what  his  and  Ordway's  chances  of  nomina- 
tion were. 

The  thing  that  made  his  conduct  more  inexplicable 
than  ever  was  her  remembrance  of  that  dance  they  had 
together  at  the  time  of  the  horse-show.  Surely,  she 
thought,  he  was  happy  then  as  well  as  she;  indeed  it 
was  her  increased  confidence  in  his  friendship  for  her 

[214] 


The  Struggle  at  Saratoga 

dating  from  that  dance,  that  had  led  her  to  anticipate 
more  than  usual  proof  of  it  from  him  upon  her  return 
to  New  York.  Perhaps  she  had  offended  him  uncon- 
sciously, and  she  spent  much  time  in  going  over  in  her 
mind  every  detail  of  that  evening's  events  in  an  effort 
to  discover  the  cause,  but  without  succeeding.  Their 
parting  was  abrupt,  it  was  true,  but  then  that  was  his 
fault,  and  he  said  he  had  a  train  to  catch.  It  was /very 
strange ;  she  could  n't  understand  it  a  bit  and  spent  so 
much  time  trying  to  fathom  the  mystery  that  she  be- 
came very  silent  and  developed  a  preoccupied,  sober 
manner  that  at  last  attracted  her  aunt's  attention,  so 
that  she  asked  her  niece  what  was  the  matter.  Worse 
than  that  to  the  girl  was  Mrs.  Cumloch's  accusation, 
when  prolonged  questioning  did  not  serve  to  disclose 
the  cause  of  Harriet's  low  spirits,  that  she  was  in  love. 

Harriet  recovered  her  usual  fire  in  a  flash  and  denied 
it  with  scorn,  especially  when  her  aunt  dared  to  name 
Verney  Ellis  as  the  supposed  object  of  her  affections. 

"  Can't  a  girl  be  friends  with  a  man,  be  interested  in 
his  career  when  she  has  n't  anything  interesting  to  do 
herself,  no  object  in  life  except  to  travel  around,  and 
spend  money  on  herself,  without  every  one  thinking  she  's 
in  love?"  she  demanded  indignantly. 

"  Oh,  it  does  n't  matter  what  you  call  it  I "  her  aunt 
replied  shrewdly,  and  the  implication  brought  a  resent- 
ful color  to  Harriet's  face.  She  spoke  calmly,  how- 
ever, which  did  credit  to  her  self-control,  believing  as 
she  did  that  Mrs.  Cumloch's  charge  was  unfounded. 

"  Nevertheless,  Aunt  Lydia,"  she  said,  "  you  are  mis- 
[215] 


The  Politician 

taken.     Nothing  is  farther  from  my  mind  than  being  in 
love  with  any  one." 

This  irritated  Mrs.  Cumloch,  whose  disappointment 
over  Harriet's  refusal  of  George  Benton  lay  very  near 
the  surface. 

"  I  know  you  think  so,"  she  said,  "  and  until  now 
I  have  seen  for  myself  that  it  was  true.  You  have 
never  until  just  lately  showed  any  signs  that  your  heart 
was  capable  of  being  touched,  and  that  in  spite  of  the 
fact  that  you  have  had  one  of  the  most  estimable  young 
men  I  know," —  this  bitterly  — "  in  love  with  you." 

"  And  what  signs  do  I  show  now?  "  asked  Harriet, 
more  curiously  than  defiantly ;  she  was  aware  of  her 
aunt's  pet  grievance  and  made  allowances  for  it. 

The  older  woman  stared  at  her  a  moment  as  if  trying 
to  decide  on  the  best  definition  of  her  meaning  to  give 
her  niece.  "  You  're  more  human,"  she  said  slowly ; 
and  then  more  positively,  "  yes,  that 's  it,  more  human." 

The  girl  laughed.  "  I  don't  think  I  know  exactly 
what  you  mean,  Aunt  Lydia,"  she  said. 

"  It 's  difficult  to  explain,  but  I  think  that  where  you 
previously  put  too  much  emphasis  on  the  things  in  life 
that  have  to  do  with  the  mind  and  the  soul,  and  too 
little  on  the  things  that  have  to  do  with  the  affections, 
you  now  are  finding  out  that  it 's  a  fine  thing  to  have 
a  heart,  after  all." 

"But  how  do  I  show  it,  this  humanizing  process?" 
inquired  Harriet,  as  interested  in  what  her  aunt  was 
saying  as  if  it  were  said  about  some  one  she  did  not 
know,  instead  of  about  herself. 

[216] 


The  Struggle  at  Saratoga 

"  By  your  anxiety  to  do  things  for  people,  for  one 
thing.  I  've  always  known  you  were  naturally  kind 
and  impulsive,  but  I  think  you  've  repressed  it  here- 
tofore, and  now  you  're  discovering  that  we  need  more 
love  in  the  world  than  education  or  religion,  and  that 
the  truest  expression  of  love  is  service." 

"  Do  you  mean  that  I  've  been  ungenerous  until  now, 
that  I  did  n't  do  things  for  people  ?  "  Her  eyes  were 
very  wide  and  almost  dismayed. 

"  No,  no !  my  dear,  not  at  all ! "  her  aunt  hastened 
to  say,  gathering  her  into  a  fond  embrace ;  "  only  that 
previously  you  did  things  for  people  more  with  your 
money  —  by  paying  other  people  to  do  things  for  them, 
and  now  you  do  things  with  your  hands,  yourself. 
Your  donations  to  charity  are  very  large  and  as  gener- 
ous as  they  can  be,  but  you  've  never  felt  the  necessity 
of  giving  your  time  to  the  poor  as  well,  and  I  believe 
you  would  now." 

"  But  supposing  it 's  so,  what  does  that  prove?  "  said 
the  girl. 

"  It  proves  to  me  that  your  outlook  upon  life  has 
changed.  It  used  to  be  that  of  a  child,  and  now  it 's 
a  woman's.  And  I  've  always  known,  Harriet,  as  long 
as  I  've  known  you,  that  it  would  take  just  that  —  your 
falling  in  love  —  to  develop  you,  to  make  a  woman  of 
you." 

"  Perhaps ;  but  you  must  n't  forget  that  I  deny  that 
I  am  in  love,"  said  Harriet,  but  quite  sweetly,  the 
harmony  usual  between  aunt  and  niece  having  been  re- 
stored by  that  embrace. 

[217] 


The  Politician 

Mrs.  Cumloch  rose  and  went  to  the  desk  in  the  room 
in  Mrs.  Chittenden's  house  that  she  was  occupying. 
"  Then  why  do  you  cover  every  scrap  of  paper  in  the 
house  with  these?  "  she  asked,  with  a  kind  of  mischie- 
vous triumph,  and  put  in  her  niece's  hand  something  she 
had  taken  from  the  desk.  It  was  a  half-sheet  of  note 
paper  closely  filled  with  very  well  executed  profile  and 
full-face  sketches  in  pen  and  ink  of  a  young  man  with 
hair  brushed  straight  back  from  a  lofty  forehead,  level 
eyebrows,  high  cheek  bones,  and  a  wonderfully  well-cut 
mouth,  under  which  was  written  "  The  Politician." 

Harriet  blushed  as  she  looked  and  made  no  reply. 
It  is  n't  in  either  author  or  artist  to  deny  his  own  work. 

Miss  Rand's  only  comfort  during  this  trying  period 
of  absolute  silence  on  the  part  of  Verney  Ellis  was 
Mr.  Vernor,  who  had  been  very  kind  and  polite  about 
occasionally  taking  Mrs.  Cumloch  and  her  niece  to  the 
theatre,  and  had  formed  the  habit  of  calling  at  the  house 
in  Forty-ninth  Street.  It  was  on  his  way  to  his  own 
apartment  farther  up  town,  and  he  often  stopped  on 
his  way  home  from  the  office  to  see  if  he  could  do  any- 
thing for  his  charming  friends  from  Chicago.  He  was 
an  interesting  man,  Richmond  Vernor,  wonderfully 
well  informed,  and  better  than  that,  endowed  with  an 
amusing  way  of  imparting  his  information  to  others; 
and  he  soon  came  to  be  a  great  favorite  with  Mrs.  Cum- 
loch. As  for  Harriet,  she  could  have  loved  him  for 
one  thing  alone,  because  he  brought  her  news  of  the 
Politician. 

[218] 


The  Struggle  at  Saratoga 

Mr.  Vernor,  who  was  not  lacking  in  astuteness,  had 
perceived  this,  and  made  a  point  of  telling  her  every- 
thing he  could  about  his  nephew  and  his  affairs.  He 
perceived  also,  and  that  not  without  wonder,  for  he 
greatly  admired  Miss  Rand  and  had  had  every  reason 
heretofore  for  believing  that  Verney  did  too,  that  her 
eagerness  to  hear  news  of  the  young  man  was  caused 
by  his  continued  non-appearance  in  Forty-ninth  Street. 
The  fact  that  Verney  was  unusually  occupied  at  this 
time  did  not  altogether  explain  matters  to  him  any 
more  than  it  did  to  Harriet ;  for  he  knew  that  nothing 
was  ever  too  much  for  Ellis  to  accomplish,  and  that  he 
would  have  come  if  he  had  wished  to  come,  no  matter 
what  his  other  engagements.  Impelled  by  his  failure 
to  analyze  the  situation  for  himself,  he  had  ventured 
to  interrogate  Verney  on  the  subject. 

"  Why  don't  you  call  on  Miss  Rand  any  more  ?  You 
used  to  see  so  much  of  her,"  he  said,  "  and  she  's  here 
for  such  a  short  time." 

"  She  's  going  to  be  in  New  York  several  weeks  yet,'* 
his  nephew  replied  in  noncommittal  tones,  "  and  lately 
I  have  been  very  busy." 

This  was  a  good  reason  in  a  way  for  his  neglect,  but 
Mr.  Vernor  was  assured  it  was  not  the  true  one. 

"  She 's  a  very  beautiful  girl  and  a  very  charming 
one,"  he  remarked  tentatively. 

"  I  know  it,"  was  the  somewhat  discouragingly  short 
answer. 

"  And  what 's  more,"  continued  the  self-appointed 
[219] 


The  Politician 

inquisitor,  undismayed,  "  if  I  'm  not  mistaken,   she 's 
very  fond  of  you." 

Verney  was  on  guard  at  once.  He  was  afraid  his 
uncle  was  going  to •  talk  to  him  about  his  "responsi- 
bility "  just  as  Mrs.  Gibbs  had  done,  and  it  was  going  to 
bore  him  to  death  as  well  as  irritate  him,  because  he  did 
not  believe  a  word  of  it.  So  far  he  had  only  considered 
the  possibility  of  his  falling  in  love  with  Harriet,  and 
that  problem  had  been  sufficiently  complicated  to  pre- 
vent him  from  thinking  of  the  possibility  of  her  falling 
in  love  with  him,  even  if  his  persistent  refusal  to  admit 
the  existence  of  such  a  possibility  had  permitted  him 
to  do  so. 

"  You  're  mistaken,  Uncle  Ritchie,"  he  said,  in  meas- 
ured, positive  tones,  "  except  as  a  friend  she  does  n't 
think  anything  of  me  one  way  or  another." 

Mr.  Vernor  said  nothing  to  this,  but  got  up  and 
walked  about  the  table  once  or  twice.  They  were  din- 
ing together  in  his  apartment. 

"  Let  me  tell  you  something,"  he  said,  gently, 
sitting  down  at  last.  "  Do  you  know,  I  have  a  theory 
—  I  've  had  it  a  long  time  —  that  when  a  woman  's  in 
love  it  is  made  manifest  by  a  sort  of  halo  about  her 
head,  which  constitutes  the  phenomenon  of  love." 

"  Hum,"  said  the  younger  man. 

"  And  that  the  composition  of  this  halo  is  the  same 
as  the  light  that  shines  in  her  eyes,  that  shines  and 
shines  with  a  radiance  that  I  'm  sure  can  be  reflected 
only  from  the  Throne.  And  it 's  visible  only  to  people 
who  are  in  love  themselves." 

[220] 


The  Struggle  at  Saratoga 

"Well?"  said  Verney.  It  irritated  him  to  have  to 
admit  it,  but  somehow  his  uncle's  theory  interested  him. 

"  I  think  Harriet  Rand  has  that  halo  about  her  head," 
said  Mr.  Vernor  thoughtfully. 

"  Why  do  you  think  so  ?  " 

The  older  man  looked  carefully  at  the  cigarette  he 
was  rolling;  it  was  an  operation  he  was  fond  of  and  in 
which  he  was  expert,  and  he  waited  until  he  had  finished 
sealing  the  white  lip  of  the  little  square  of  tobacco- 
filled  paper  before  he  spoke.  "  I  've  seen  it." 

"  But  I  thought  you  said  only  those  who  — "  began 
Verney. 

"  I  know,"  returned  the  other,  "  only  those  who  are 
in  love  themselves.  Well?  " 

Verney  was  bewildered  for  a  minute.  He  did  n't 
know  of  any  girl  with  whom  his  uncle  could  be  in 
love.  Then  it  dawned  on  him.  It  was  Harriet  Rand 
herself  his  uncle  meant!  Intimate  as  their  relations 
were,  the  young  man  felt  abashed  by  this  astounding 
confession. 

"  Nothing,"  he  said,  in  reply  to  his  uncle's  query. 

Richmond  Vernor  looked  at  him  quickly.  "  Don't 
think  I  mean  the  halo  is  for  me,  however,"  he  said ;  "  it 
isn't,"  sadly— "that  I  know  well." 

"  For  whom  is  it,  then  ?  "  something  impelled  Verney 
to  ask  in  very  low  tones. 

"  For  you,"  replied  his  uncle  simply. 

Ellis  had  been  expecting,  had  been  fearing,  the  other 
was  going  to  say  that,  but  now  that  it  was  said  he 
found  that  he  felt  unaccountably  moved  and  touched. 

[221  ] 


The  Politician 

Yet  he  still  felt  just  as  sure  that  it  was  n't  true  —  that 
Mr.  Vernor  was  mistaken.  It  was  only  a  sentimental 
fancy  of  his  uncle's  induced  by  his  own  sentiment  for 
Harriet.  He  felt  assured  that  he  need  not  take  the 
matter  seriously  or  attach  any  significance  to  the  halo 
idea.  No,  it  was  only  a  conspiracy  on  the  part  of 
Mrs.  Gibbs,  his  uncle,  and  the  whole  world,  to  try  and 
make  a  conceited  ass  of  him. 

"  That 's  a  very  interesting  theory  of  yours,  Uncle 
Ritch,"  he  said  decidedly,  "  but  forgive  me  if  I  say 
I  think  it 's  only  a  theory,  and  that  as  far  as  you  've 
applied  it  to  me,  it 's  absolutely  erroneous.  Why,  I 
know,  I  happen  to  know  that  Miss  Rand  thinks  more 
of  my  work,  of  my  being  in  politics,  than  she  does  of 
me.  She  's  a  very  intelligent  girl,  and  she  's  interested 
in  a  subject  that  grows  in  interest  with  every  year  — 
political  reform.  It 's  my  ambitions  in  that  direction 
that  attract  her,  not  I.  A  man  would  be  an  egotis- 
tical fool  to  believe  anything  else,  no  matter  who  said 
so,  if  he  'd  had  as  little  reason  for  believing  it  as  I  've 
had!" 

As  he  spoke,  his  confidence  came  back  to  him  in  a 
flood-tide,  and  he  recognized  with  relief  that  this  was 
so,  and  that  the  other  aspect  of  the  affair  was  the 
wrong  one.  Fortunately ;  for  he  realized  too  that  if 
there  had  been  any  truth  in  what  Mr.  Vernor  had  said, 
the  situation  would  have  been  rendered  hopeless,  where 
now  it  was  only  difficult.  His  resolution  to  see  as  little 
of  Harriet  as  he  could  had  only  been  strengthened  by 
this  talk  with  the  older  man,  and  the  twelfth  of  Sep- 


The  Struggle  at  Saratoga 

tember  came  and  found  him  at  Saratoga,  without  Har- 
riet's having  heard  a  word  from  him. 

He  had  left  New  York  the  night  before  on  the  mid- 
night train,  to  attend  the  Republican  State  Convention 
at  Saratoga  with  Rupert  Mathers,  leader  of  the  New 
York  County  delegation.  They  were  going  a  little 
ahead  of  the  other  delegates  as  there  was  work  to  be 
done  in  cementing  the  anti-Downes  feeling  of  a  number 
of  doubtful  counties;  and  there  were  people  up-State 
known  to  Verney  Ellis  and  not  to  the  chairman  for  whose 
conversion  Mathers  relied  upon  his  lieutenant. 

A  test  vote  had  been  taken  on  the  preceding  Tuesday 
at  the  primary  elections  —  no  wonder  Verney  had  been 
busy  the  week  before,  the  burden  of  the  work  in  con- 
nection with  that  event  having  fallen  upon  his  shoulders 
—  to  see  whether  the  majority  of  enrolled  Republicans 
really  favored  Downes's  reelection  or  not.  The  con- 
clusion was  favorable  to  Verney's  plans  for  his  friend, 
as  it  had  been  discovered  that  the  majority  were  against 
the  renomination  of  the  present  Governor.  The  touch- 
and-go  nature  of  the  situation  was  best  demonstrated 
by  the  universally  expressed  opinion  of  political  leaders 
that  the  contest  would  be  determined  by  the  way  in 
which  New  York  County  went,  that  county  having  a 
hundred  and  eighty-seven  delegates  in  the  State  Con- 
vention of  about  one  thousand. 

Verney  in  his  room  at  the  United  States  Hotel  felt 
more  than  satisfied  with  the  situation.  The  up-State 
counties  he  had  been  in  doubt  of  were  pledged  to  stand 
against  Downes  to  the  last ;  and  the  name  of  Oliver 

[223] 


The  Politician 

Ordway  as  a  possible  candidate  was  heard  more  and 
more  frequently.  He  had  his  friend's  assurance,  too, 
that  he  would  not  withdraw  his  name  no  matter  what 
the  outcome  was ;  that  as  his  own  county  and  several 
others  had  already  been  instructed  for  him,  he  would 
not  consider  it  fair  to  do  so.  The  Politician  felt  that 
this  gave  him  carte  blanche  to  go  ahead  and  do  all  that 
was  in  him  to  increase  his  friend's  following;  and  the 
thought  made  him  feel  so  confident  and  sure  of  success 
that  he  forgot  all  about  his  good  resolutions  and  sat 
down  and  wrote  Harriet  all  about  it,  explaining 
minutely  his  former  fears,  his  present  hopes,  and  the 
reasons  he  had  for  thinking  the  latter  were  going  to  be 
realized.  Not  one  word  did  he  say,  however,  of  apology 
or  explanation  in  regard  to  the  recent  hiatus  that  had 
occurred  in  their  friendship,  and  he  dismissed  his  own 
prospects  for  the  Attorney-generalship  with  a  line  at 
the  end  to  the  effect  that  they  were  about  as  likely  to 
offer  him  the  nomination  for  that  office  as  to  make  him 
"  President  of  Cuba  " ;  so  that  Harriet,  reading  the  let- 
ter in  her  room  in  the  Chittendens'  house,  though  thrilled 
to  see  the  name  of  "  The  United  States  Hotel "  on  the 
envelope  as  evidence  that  her  letter  was  from  the  scene 
of  battle,  was  not  at  all  satisfied  with  its  contents. 

The  opening  of  the  Convention  on  September  14, 
found  two-thirds  of  it  against  the  Governor  and  it  was 
admitted  by  both  factions,  for  and  against  him,  that 
there  were  more  than  enough  delegates  to  prevent  his 
nomination  if  they  could  be  united  for  any  one  else. 

[224] 


The  Struggle  at  Saratoga 

The  reasons  which  the  Republican  leaders  had  for  op- 
posing Downes  were  substantially  the  same  as  those 
which  Verney  Ellis  had  given  Harriet  on  the  occasion 
of  Mrs.  Cumloch's  dinner  at  Lake  Forest  at  the  close  of 
the  National  Convention,  and  were  briefly  —  his  recom- 
mendations for  a  direct  nominating  primary  election 
law,  and  for  the  public  service  commissions  laws  —  and 
his  refusal  to  consider  a  political  endorsement  as  valu- 
able for  an  appointment  to  office.  There  was  more 
resentment  against  the  latter  policy  than  either  of  the 
others  perhaps,  because  more  than  anything  else,  it 
struck  a  blow  at  the  existence  of  the  Republican 
organization  in  New  York ;  their  belief  in  the  necessity 
of  which  was  a  religion  with  its  members.  Then,  too, 
the  leaders  were  all  honestly  and  sincerely  of  the  opinion 
that  the  Governor's  renomination  would  mean  defeat 
for  the  Republican  ticket.  As  the  chairman  of  the 
Republican  State  Committee  had  said  the  day  before 
as  he  stood  on  the  veranda  of  the  United  States  Hotel 
talking  to  a  large  group  of  up-State  delegates :  "  If 
Downes  is  renominated  it  will  mean  the  greatest  slump 
at  the  election  the  Republican  party  of  the  State  has 
ever  experienced." 

Inability  to  select  the  right  man  to  unite  their  votes 
upon  as  opposing  candidate  for  the  nomination  Was  the 
chief  stumbling-block  in  the  way  of  the  political  leaders. 
Several  good  men  had  been  suggested  who  were  con- 
sidered to  stand  high  enough  in  the  people's  estimation 
to  capture  the  popular  vote  when  it  came  to  the  election, 
IS  [  225  ] 


The  Politician 

and  who  were  all  likely  to  carry  the  Republican  ticket 
to  success,  and  among  them  Verney's  friend  Ordway ; 
but  somehow  or  other  for  this  reason  or  that,  the  leaders 
had  been  unable  definitely  to  decide  on  any  one  of  them. 

That  was  the  situation  when  the  Convention  opened, 
and  it  was  not  materially  changed  on  the  second  day ; 
therefore,  perceiving  that  the  time  was  growing  short 
and  that  something  must  be  done  quickly,  a  conference 
of  the  leaders  representing  both  the  Downes  and  the 
anti-Downes  factions  met  early  that  morning  to  see 
how  matters  could  be  brought  in  short  order  to  a  satis- 
factory conclusion.  It  adjourned  after  protracted  dis- 
cussion, the  only  result  having  been  a  decision  to  meet 
again,  and  a  more  or  less  friendly  agreement  that  in 
the  interval  the  nomination  should  be  offered  to  a^man 
regarded,  at  least  by  those  opposed  to  Downes,  as  meet- 
ing the  needs  of  the  case.  When  the  day's  session, 
which  had  begun  at  two  o'clock,  had  been  concluded 
without  any  nominations  having  been  made,  its  only 
feature  of  importance  the  speech  of  a  member  of  the 
Cabinet  who  was  chosen  temporary  and  permanent 
chairman,  the  conference  met  again.  Those  present  at 
the  meeting,  over  which  the  chairman  of  the  State 
Committee  presided,  included  the  member  of  the  cabinet, 
ex-Governor  Orme  of  New  York,  National  Committee- 
man  Fairchild,  Senator  Gray  from  Syracuse,  Repre- 
sentative Thomas  J.  Beekman  of  Albany,  friend  and 
devoted  ally  of  Verney's,  Speaker  Oliver  Ordway  him- 
self, and  his  faithful  lieutenant,  James  Vernor  Ellis. 

At  this  conference  the  efforts  of  those  opposed  to 
[226] 


"Anyone  rather  than  the  present  Governor" 


The  Struggle  at  Saratoga 

the  Governor  to  find  a  suitable  candidate  for  the 
nomination  came  to  a  head,  and  much  pressure  was 
brought  to  bear  upon  the  member  of  the  cabinet  to 
accept  it.  Great  hopes  had  been  built  on  this  plan,, 
but  the  cabinet  member  "  knocked  them  all  into  a 
cocked  hat "  by  refusing.  His  reason,  he  explained, 
was  that  if  he  accepted,  as  senior  member  of  the  cabinet 
he  could  justly  be  accused  of  disloyalty  to  the  Presi- 
dent, who  was  well-known  to  be  backing  Downes;  and 
having  delivered  his  ultimatum  on  the  subject,  in  com- 
pany with  most  of  the  men  who  were  friendly  to  the 
Governor  he  left  the  conference  for  his  hotel  and  went 
to  bed.  This  was  at  two  in  the  morning,  and  the  op- 
position, who  had  banked  everything  on  his  acceptance 
of  the  nomination,  gave  way  to  despair  at  the  summary 
departure,  and  there  was  some  talk  of  withdrawing  their 
objections  to  Downes  and  of  supporting  him. 

It  was  at  this  moment  so  opportune  for  his  plans, 
that  Vernor  Ellis  who  had  been  biding  his  time,  rose 
and  called  the  attention  of  the  conference  to  Speaker 
Oliver  Ordway,  who  was,  he  said,  in  every  way  qualified 
for  the  nomination.  With  force  and  some  eloquence 
he  dilated  upon  his  friend's  ability,  already  proved  in 
the  office  he  then  held,  upon  the  neutral  character  of 
such  a  choice,  and  lastly  upon  the  urgent  necessity  of 
deciding  upon  someone  at  once.  With  tireless  energy 
he  elaborated  the  numberless  reasons  why  they  should 
nominate  almost  any  one  rather  than  the  present  Gov- 
ernor again,  and  his  fellow  politicians  listened. 

Downes  was  an  enemy  of  organization  in  the  first 
[227] 


The  Politician 

place,  Verney  reminded  them,  without  which  no  perma- 
nent good  could  be  achieved;  he  believed  also  in  one- 
man  power,  which  could  be  only  temporarily  efficacious. 
Every  one  admitted,  and  Verney  was  convinced  of  it 
himself,  that  political  organization,  like  labor  unions, 
was  in  need  of  reform,  that  both  were  illustrations  of 
the  great  abuse  of  a  great  use,  that  both  had  been 
conceived  and  instituted  to  attain  right  results,  and  that 
both  had  been  corrupted.  But,  he  asked,  was  that 
any  reason  why  either  should  be  abolished?  No. 
When  a  good  thing  had  become  bad  you  reformed  it  — 
you  did  n't  abolish  it.  But  Mr.  Downes  did  n't  think 
so,  he  thought  it  should  be  destroyed.  Would  they  let 
Mr.  Downes  be  nominated,  then?  Just  for  lack  of 
the  will  power  to  agree  upon  some  one  else?  He  hoped 
he  knew  them  better  than  that.  Surely  they  thought 
as  he  did,  that  one  of  the  most  important  things  to 
be  aimed  at  in  reforming  politics  was  to  lessen  the 
expenditure  of  money.  Did  they  mean  to  nominate  a 
Governor  who  advocated  direct  primaries,  which  be- 
sides being  themselves  a  serious  obstacle  to  party 
organization,  necessitated  the  expenditure  of  more 
money  than  was  spent  in  any  other  political  operation. 
If  they  doubted  this  statement  they  had  only  to  look 
up  the  records  of  the  contest  for  the  senatorship  in  a 
certain  Western  State  in  which  a  very  wealthy  man 
named  Peterson  had  defeated  a  man  named  Matthewson. 
Verney  said  he  did  n't  know  if  they  knew  it,  but  it  was 
a  fact  —  he  had  good  authority  for  the  statement — • 

[228] 


The  Struggle  at  Saratoga 

that  nine  hundred  thousand  dollars  had  been  spent  at 
that  primary  contest,  and  that  Peterson  had  openly 
stated  in  advance  that  he  was  ready  to  spend  five  hun- 
dred thousand  dollars  more  to  be  declared  at  the 
primaries  the  choice  for  United  States  Senator.  And 
in  New  Jersey,  too,  where  the  direct  primary  system 
was  in  operation,  a  great  deal  of  money  had  been  spent. 

Could  they  endorse  an  administration  that  approved 
of  a  system  so  bad  in  its  effects,  Verney  wanted  to  know. 
Were  they  not  aware,  too,  that  by  the  direct  nomina- 
tion system  a  nomination  might  be  made  by  a  minority, 
which  could  not  happen  in  a  convention  where  the 
choice  was  always  that  of  the  majority  of  delegates? 

Having  thus  rapidly  reviewed  some  of  the  reasons 
for  not  supporting  Downes  in  any  event,  which  in  his 
estimation  were  of  the  greatest  importance,  Verney 
went  on  to  score  the  Governor  on  his  own  account. 
One  thing  in  particular  he  had  never  been  able  to  for- 
give" him,  and  he  dwelt  at  length  upon  it.  It  was 
an  act  of  injustice  and  bad  judgment  which  provided 
this  young  politician  with  no  end  of  capital  in  urging 
the  leaders  present  to  offer  the  nomination  to  Speaker 
Ordway. 

When  one  of  them,  Senator  Gray,  although  they  were 
all  on  the  point  of  assenting  to  Verney's  proposition, 
suggested  —  perhaps  by  way  of  proving  that  he  had 
no  greater  objection  to  Ordway  —  that  the  Speaker 
might  be  too  young  a  man  to  fill  the  office  of  Governor 
of  the  State  of  New  York,  Verney,  who  had  paused 

[229] 


The  Politician 

a  moment  to  take  breath  and  to  catch  his  lip  with  his 
teeth,  leaped  to  meet  the  objection  like  a  hound  from 
leash. 

What  had  the  young  Turks  done  for  their  country 
by  way  of  securing  good  government,  he  would  like 
to  know?  Wasn't  it  their  determination  to  have  jus- 
tice, their  armed  interference,  that  had  won  a  charter 
for  Turkey?  It  was  the  day  of  young  men,  and 
Downes  had  had  four  years  of  power ;  why  was  n't  it 
fair  to  give  another  and  a  younger  man  a  chance? 

Perhaps  it  was  their  desperation,  perhaps  it  was  the 
appeal  to  their  prejudices  and  their  principles  which 
Ellis's  speech  had  made,  or  perhaps  a  feeling  of  relief 
on  the  part  of  the  older  leaders  that  the  honor  should 
be  given  to  a  man  like  young  Ordway  of  neutral  posi- 
tion as  to  the  contending  factions,  who  was  not  of 
equal  prominence  or  directly  in  competition  with  them, 
that  won  the  day.  Perhaps  it  was  all  these  reasons 
combined  with  the  fact  that  they  were  quite  wearied 
out  and  ready  to  snatch  at  any  reasonable  suggestion 
made  by  any  one.  At  any  rate,  the  result  was  that 
Ellis's  earnest  advocacy  of  his  friend  as  Republican 
candidate  for  Governor  met  with  unanimous  approval; 
and  when  the  members  of  the  conference  who  had  stayed 
to  the  end  adjourned  toward  four  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing, it  was  with  the  intention  of  nominating  Speaker 
Ordway  on  the  morrow. 

But  not  one  of  the  tired  men  who  sought  their  rooms 
in  the  hotel  where  most  of  them  put  up,  was  as  tired 
or  as  happy  as  Ellis.  His  success  in  getting  his  fel- 

[230] 


The  Struggle  at  Saratoga 

low  politicians  to  unite  upon  Ordway  as  the  right  man 
to  oppose  Downes  was  happiness  enough;  but  as  it 
happened,  the  last  thing  the  conference  had  done  was 
to  name  him  for  Attorney-general  at  the  same  time. 
It  was  not  altogether  unexpected,  but  highly  gratify- 
ing just  the  same,  that  they  should  have  done  so,  and 
he  thought  with  a  glow  how  pleased  his  father  would 
be.  And  Harriet, —  yes,  she  would  be  pleased  too. 
Physically  exhausted,  but  with  an  absolutely  tran- 
quil mind,  he  composed  himself  to  rest  that  night; 
and  not  even  the  uneasy  mutterings  of  a  callow  delegate 
from  up-State  who  slept  next  door  and  whose  inability 
to  sleep  quietly  had  somewhat  disturbed  Verney  the 
night  before,  or  the  fact  that  the  daylight  had  begun 
to  come  in  at  the  windows,  could  keep  him  from  dream- 
less slumber.  He  was  not  fated  to  sleep  long,  however, 
for  at  seven  in  the  morning  a  boy  knocked  on  his 
door  with  a  telegram.  It  was  from  his  mother,  saying 
that  his  old  nurse  Nanna  was  very  ill  with  pneumonia, 
and  that  she  was  asking  for  him. 


1231] 


CHAPTER  XIII 

"FRIENDS,  HOW  GOES  THE  FIGHT?" 

ELLIS  was  very  much  troubled  by  this  news. 
He  supposed  his  mother  had  sent  the  tele- 
gram hoping  that  he  would  return  to  New 
York  at  once,  but  he  didn't  see  how  he  could  do  it. 
Only  a  woman  who  understood  nothing  at  all  about 
politics  and  who  did  not  sympathize  with  her  son's 
interest  in  that  direction  could  ask  it  of  him.  And  yet 
he  would  have  liked  to  go.  It  was  hard  that  old  Nanna 
should  be  so  ill  and  he  not  there;  especially  when  she 
was  calling  for  him !  That  he  could  n't  bear  to  think 
of !  How  kind  the  dear  old  woman  had  always  been  to 
him,  how  good!  And  always  he  had  been  her  favorite, 
that  he  knew.  'Way  back  when  he  was  a  little  bit  of  a 
boy  he  could  remember  how  she  had  fended  for  him, 
quarrelling  with  the  nurses  in  charge  of  the  other 
children  to  get  her  child  his  rights.  And  even  now  that 
he  was  grown  up,  how  well  she  looked  after  him,  what 
loving  care  she  took  of  his  clothes,  how  particular  she 
was  to  see  that  he  had  something  to  eat  when  he  came 
home  late  at  night  too  tired  and  too  busy  to  have 
thought  of  dinner! 

It  was  very  pitiful,  and  Verney  —  breakfast  quite  for- 
gotten —  walked    sadly    toward    the    telegraph    office. 


°How  Goes  the  Fight?'1 

Nothing  except  the  present  crisis,  this  convention  at 
Saratoga,  could  have  kept  him  from  going  to  his  old 
nurse's  bedside ;  but  as  it  was,  he  felt  he  could  not 
leave,  not  with  his  friend's  fate  hanging  in  the  balance 
on  the  very  morning  of  the  nominating  day.  After 
working  so  hard  he  couldn't  leave  his  task  undone, — 
it  would  be  betraying  his  friend's  interests. 

"  They  need  me  here,"  he  telegraphed  his  mother ; 
"  I  must  stay.  Keep  me  informed  how  she  is." 

It  was  an  exciting  day,  that  final  one  of  the  Re- 
publican State  Convention.  Armed  with  their  over- 
night determination  to  present  Speaker  Ordway's  name 
as  their  candidate  for  Governor,  the  leaders  opposed 
to  Downes  felt  that  the  battle  would  be  fierce,  and 
the  result  close.  Indeed  the  profoundest  uncertainty 
as  to  the  outcome  of  the  contest  prevailed;  and  while 
strong  anti-Downes  men  were  heard  declaring  that  it 
looked  to  them  as  if  the  opposition  to  the  Governor's 
nomination  were  disintegrating  and  that  they  should  n't 
wonder  if  he  won  on  the  first  ballot,  the  most  loyal 
of  the  Governor's  friends  expressed  their  doubt  that 
he  would  win  at  all  with  practically  two-thirds  of  the 
Convention  against  him.  Verney  Ellis,  however,  with 
the  chairman  of  the  State  Committee,  Rupert  Mathers, 
of  New  York  County,  and  Thomas  J.  Beekman,  of 
Albany,  formed  a  solid  nucleus  of  anti-Downes  men 
whose  confidence  that  the  Governor  would  be  defeated 
had  never  wavered. 

"  He  can't  get  the  necessary  506  votes  to  nominate 
him,"  said  Beekman,  who  was  as  ardent  a  champion 

[233] 


The  Politician 

of  Ordway  and  as  earnest  an  enemy  of  Downes  as  Ver- 
ney,  as  he  and  Ellis  took  their  seats  in  the  Convention 
hall. 

"  Now  that  the  fight  has  been  carried  into  the  Con- 
vention," returned  Verney,  "  we  will  surely  win." 

The  plan  of  the  leaders  opposed  to  the  Governor  was 
to  have  the  names  of  a  number  of  candidates  placed 
in  nomination  before  the  Convention  with  the  idea  that 
these  men  would  get  enough  votes  to  prevent  Downes 
from  being  nominated  on  the  first  ballot,  and  then  to  offer 
the  name  of  Speaker  Oliver  Ordway  as  candidate. 

This  programme  they  carried  successfully  through. 
The  atmosphere  had  been  decidedly  tense,  for  news  of 
the  selection  of  an  opposing  candidate  by  the  faction, 
not  in  sympathy  with  Downes  had  leaked  out,  when  the 
chairman,  who  was  also  a  member  of  the  cabinet,  entered 
the  hall  to  open  the  Convention ;  but  it  was  relieved 
immediately  by  the  burst  of  cheering  lasting  two 
minutes  which  greeted  his  appearance. 

The  business  of  the  day  was  then  speedily  despatched, 
the  temporary  organization,  made  permanent,  the 
report  of  the  credentials  committee  submitted  and 
adopted,  the  platform  reported  and  read.  Whereupon, 
the  nominating  having  begun,  the  leaders  of  the  Re- 
publican organization  rose  in  their  might  and  hurled 
the  names  of  half  a  dozen  candidates  for  Governor 
before  the  Convention.  The  well  calculated  effect  of 
which  manoeuvre  was  to  scatter  the  votes  of  505  of  the 
delegates  out  of  the  1010,  which  left  exactly  that  num- 
ber, 505  votes,  at  Downes's  disposal  effectually  pre- 

[234] 


"How  Goes  the  Fight?" 

venting  his  nomination  on  the  initial  ballot  by  rendering 
the  vote  a  tie.  Following  which  a  second  ballot  was 
entered  upon,  when  the  chairman  of  the  State  Com- 
mittee who  was  also  Lieutenant-governor  and  an  ardent 
anti-Downes  man,  appeared  upon  the  platform  and 
nominated  Speaker  Ordway.  Three-fourths  of  the 
packed  audience  responded  with  applause;  whereupon 
Beekman,  who  was  president  of  the  Albany  County 
Committee,  stepped  out  on  the  platform  and  seconded 
the  nomination. 

A  demonstration  of  disapproval  arose  at  this  moment 
from  the  galleries  where  groups  of  Downes  sympa- 
thizers were  seated.  Beekman  rebuked  it  harshly. 
"  There  seems  to  be  doubt  in  some  quarters  whether 
this  is  a  Republican  Convention,"  he  said,  "  but  it  is. 
Have  you  forgotten  that  in  supporting  the  present 
Governor  you  are  advocating  a  man  who  considers  him- 
self too  big  for  his  party,  too  big  for  the  party  that 
elected  him  in  the  first  place?  "  He  was  a  short,  stocky, 
young  man,  Beekman,  without  much  presence,  but  the 
strength  of  his  convictions,  the  sincerity  of  his  beliefs, 
served  him  for  presence  and  eloquence  alike  and  made 
him  for  the  moment  a  great  orator.  After  a  sensible 
and  telling  argument  to  prove  Ordway's  eligibility  for 
the  office  of  Governor,  he  went  on  to  give  a  brief  but 
earnest  exposition  of  what  he  called  the  present  Gov- 
ernor's inadequacy,  characterizing  him  as  a  narrow  and 
egotistical,  though  able  man. 

But  the  part  of  his  speech  that  won  the  most  dele- 
gates to  his  cause  was  what  he  said  in  regard  to  the 

[235] 


The  Politician 

interference  of  the  President  in  the  question  of  the 
candidacy  for  the  Governorship  of  New  York.  An- 
other fiat  had  gone  forth  from  the  White  House  only 
that  morning  by  means  of  telegrams  to  the  effect  that 
Downes  must  be  declared  by  the  Convention  to  be  the 
Republican  candidate  for  Governor. 

"  Will  you  be  dictated  to,  my  friends  —  free-think- 
ing, independent  representatives  of  counties  that  belong 
to  the  most  important  State  in  this  independent  country 
—  by  an  autocrat,  by  the  first  emperor  in  the  White 
House?  "  he  asked  with  passionate  intensity. 

And  whether  justifiably  made  or  not,  that  appeal 
to  the  feeling  most  characteristic  of  our  nation,  the 
spirit  of  liberty,  of  resentment  of  coercion, —  was  not 
lacking  in  effect  and  with  results  that  were  unfavor- 
able to  the  Downes  faction.  Delegates  responded  to 
Beekman's  call  for  more  supporters  of  the  Ordway 
movement  from  every  side,  and  the  chairman  of  Albany 
County,  as  he  stepped  down  from  the  platform,  felt 
that  the  battle  was  as  good  as  won  and  that  he  had  done 
yeoman's  service  to  the  cause. 

Verney  Ellis,  listening  appreciatively,  felt  that  he  had 
indeed.  The  Politician  had  not  at  all  envied  his  friend 
the  opportunity  to  make  the  speech,  or  wished  to  figure 
so  prominently  in  the  Convention  as  Beekman  had;  he 
was  only  glad  his  friend  had  done  the  work  so  well. 
Having  set  with  his  own  hand  the  wheels  in  motion 
which  were  to  accomplish  his  heart's  desire,  having 
slaved  untiringly  to  insure  the  success  of  his  plans,  he 
was  content  to  leave  the  completion  of  the  work,  the 

[236] 


"How  Goes  the  Fight?' 

finishing-off  of  the  ends  to  others,  provided  that  they 
were  competent.  So  long  as  Ordway  won  he  was  satis- 
fied, whether  or  not  he  had  himself  a  conspicuous  place 
on  the  programme  of  events  that  had  brought  it  about. 
As  he  had  once  told  Harriet,  he  was  one  of  the  practi- 
cal politicians  who  helped  other  men  to  run  for  office 
rather  than  the  kind  whose  sole  aim  was  to  run  for 
office  himself. 

There  was  a  chance  of  course  that  he  would  be 
nominated  for  Attorney-general,  but  the  possibility 
was  one  he  had  not  in  any  sense  sought;  and  exciting 
and  pleasing  as  it  was,  he  had  quite  lost  sight  of  it 
in  the  greater  issues  of  the  day.  It  was  with  no  feeling 
of  envy,  therefore,  but  with  the  frankest  sort  of  pleasure 
that  he  welcomed  Beekman  back  to  his  seat,  congratu- 
lating him  upon  saying  the  right  thing  at  the  right 
time;  and  little  Tommy  Beekman,  who  thought  the 
world  of  Verney  and  admired  him  tremendously,  smiled 
delightedly  at  the  other's  praise. 

A  messenger  boy  walking  slowly  down  between  the 
rows  of  seats,  stopping  at  intervals  to  call :  "  Tel'- 
gram  for  Mr.  Ellis  !  Tel'gram  for  Mr.  Ellis ! "  inter- 
rupted the  conference  of  the  two  young  men.  Verney 
claimed  the  yellow  envelope  when  the  boy's  attention 
had  been  attracted,  and  opening  it  found  that  it  was 
a  "  come-at-once  "  summons  of  the  familiar  type,  this 
time  from  his  sister  Carol,  stating  that  Nanna  was  much 
worse. 

In  despair  he  handed  the  despatch  to  Tommy  and 
rapidly  outlined  the  situation.  "  She 's  dying,  you 

[237] 


The  Politician 

know,  and  she  has  been  so  devoted  to  me.  I  owe  her 
so  much,  it  seems  inhuman  not  to  go." 

"  It 's  an  awfully  tough  position  to  be  in,"  sympa- 
thized his  friend,  "  but  I  don't  see  how  you  can  go 
just  now." 

"  I  can't,"  acknowledged  Verney,  mournfully,  "  not 
until  I  find  out  whether  Ordway  gets  the  nomination 
or  not.  I  've  seen  him  through  so  far,  I  must  see  it 
out,"  and  he  handed  the  waiting  boy  a  hastily  scribbled 
message  saying  that  he  was  coming  as  soon  as  the  Con- 
vention was  over  and  would  probably  reach  New  York 
late  that  night. 

When  the  placing  of  names  in  nomination  had  been 
concluded,  the  secretary  boomed  out  the  call  for  the 
first  county  in  the  roll, —  Albany.  Beekman,  who 
had  been  waiting  for  this  moment  with  the  impatience 
of  the  pardoned  criminal  for  the  day  of  liberty,  as 
chairman  of  the  county  called,  literally  hurled  him- 
self from  his  seat  and  cast  the  28  votes  in  his  delegation 
for  Ordway.  A  burst  of  applause  followed  that  had 
grown  in  volume  since  that  occasioned  by  the  first 
mention  of  the  young  Speaker's  name. 

There  was  little  excitement  after  that  until  Kings 
County  was  called,  the  intervening  counties  having 
divided  their  allegiance  about  evenly  between  the  Gov- 
ernor and  Ordway.  The  Lieutenant-governor,  who  was 
chairman  of  that  county  committee,  rose  smiling,  as 
if  he  were  thoroughly  enjoying  himself. 

"  Kings  casts  138  votes  for  Ordway,"  he  shouted, 
[238] 


"How  Goes  the  Fight?' 

and  Ordway's  popularity  having  increased  steadily,  a 
tumult  of  cheers  responded. 

And  so  the  battle  went;  first  a  county  for  one,  and 
then  a  county  for  another;  or  perhaps  a  county  for 
Ordway  would  contain  a  District  or  two  for  Downes, 
and  lice  'versa.  So  even  were  the  two  candidates,  the 
others  having  been  lost  sight  of  early  in  the  race,  that 
by  the  time  the  "  N's  "  were  reached,  neither  had  the 
advantage  of  the  other.  Then  New  York  County  was 
called.  It  was  an  intensely  exciting  moment,  and  peo- 
ple held  their  breaths,  delegates  and  spectators  alike; 
for  this  was  the  deciding  county,  its  vote  would  deter- 
mine the  contest. 

Verney,  who  was  alone  now,  for  Beekman  had  left 
him  to  sit  with  a  group  of  political  leaders  on  the 
other  side  of  the  crowded  hall,  bent  his  head  and  prayed, 
for  he  did  n't  feel  quite  certain  what  New  York  was 
going  to  do.  He  knew  that  Mathers,  the  chairman, 
was  favorable  to  the  Ordway  movement ;  but  New  York 
was  a  large  county  to  handle. 

Mathers,  a  tall,  thoughtful-looking,  light-haired, 
young  man  with  a  high,  bald  forehead,  rose  calmly  from 
his  chair.  "  The  second  district  of  New  York  County 
casts  ten  votes  for  Governor  Downes;  the  remaining 
177  votes  for  Oliver  Ordway,"  he  announced  in  a  firm 
voice. 

This  made  certain  Ordway's  nomination,  and  in- 
stantly, although  the  end  of  the  balloting  showed  the 
contest  to  have  been  close  with  only  551  rotes  for 

[289] 


The  Politician 

Ordway  and  416  for  Dowries  with  43  scattering,  the 
5,000  persons  crowded  into  the  Convention  hall,  touched 
off  the  only  big  noise  in  the  whole  proceedings,  save 
perhaps  the  demonstration  given  the  cabinet  member 
earlier  that  day. 

Verney  waited  only  until  the  nomination  had  been 
made  unanimous,  the  motion  to  make  it  so  having  been 
made  by  a  former  Downes  man,  before  he  left  the 
Convention.  The  remaining  events  of  the  afternoon, 
the  nominations  for  the  minor  offices  such  as  Attorney- 
general,  he  learned  afterwards.  There  was  a  four 
o'clock  train  to  New  York  which  he  wanted  to  catch; 
but  before  leaving  the  hall  he  went  around  to  where 
Ordway  sat,  to  congratulate  him. 

"  I  've  you  to  thank,  Verney ! "  said  the  young 
Speaker  gratefully,  his  dark  face  pale  from  the  strain 
of  the  past  hours,  but  happy,  and  his  dark  prophet's 
eyes  luminous  with  visions  of  the  good  he  was  going 
to  do,  the  great  things  he  was  going  to  accomplish 
in  his  new  position  of  power. 

However,  he  did  not  attempt  to  express  to  his  friend 
any  of  his  feeling  of  exaltation.  He  knew  Verney 
was  feeling  the  same  way  —  as  much  so  as  if  the 
chance  to  fill  so  directly  their  splendid  dreams  for  the 
making  of  new  political  history  that  should  be  clean 
and  pure  and  free  from  corruption  were  his  own,  in- 
stead of  his  friend's.  A  pressure  of  the  hand  was  all 
that  was  needed  to  cover  the  situation  completely 
between  these  two  young  men  who  understood  each  other, 
and  Verney  was  soon  explaining  to  the  newly  made 

[240] 


"How  Goes  the  Fight?' 

candidate  for  Governor  why  he  could  n't  stay  until  the 
end  of  the  Convention. 

"  How  about  the  Attorney-generalship  ?  "  said  Ord- 
way,  immediately.  "  Can't  you  stay  and  see  how  that 
goes,  whether  you  get  the  nomination  ?  " 

"  No,  I  can't,  Oliver,"  returned  Verney,  "  I  must  get 
that  four  o'clock  train.  Poor  old  Nanna  may  be  dying, 
you  know." 

"  Of  course,"  said  the  other,  sympathetically. 
"  Well,  good-bye,  good  luck !  " 

Verney  was  out  of  the  building  and  was  looking  at 
his  watch  to  see  if  he  would  have  time  to  go  to  his 
hotel  for  his  bag  before  making  his  train,  when  little 
Tommy  Beekman  came  running  out  after  him. 

"  Ordway  's  won !  "  he  shouted,  "  We  've  won !  Oh, 
damn  it,  Verney,  but  I  'm  glad ! "  His  face  was 
wreathed  in  smiles,  his  voice  suspiciously  near  to  tears, 
and  Verney,  forgetting  his  train  and  his  trouble  for 
the  moment,  rushed  to  meet  his  friend,  whom  he  had 
not  seen  since  Ordway's  nomination  had  been  assured. 
Tommy  and  he  had  worked  shoulder  to  shoulder  in  the 
cause,  and  now  that  success  had  attended  their  efforts, 
they  felt  the  need  of  rejoicing  together. 

"  Is  n't  it  fine,  Tommy  ?  I  swear  to  the  Lord  I 
never  was  so  happy  about  anything  in  my  life ! "  he 
said,  and  Beekman  for  answer  in  a  paroxysm  of  joy 
flung  both  arms  around  Verney's  neck  and  swung  clear 
off  the  ground.  He  was  quite  short,  and  Ellis  just 
under  six  feet. 

"  But  the  nomination  for  Attorney-general,  are  n't 
16  [  241  ] 


The  Politician 

you  going  to  stay  until  that 's  decided?  "  asked  Tommy 
when  they  were  both  calmer,  "  are  n't  you  going  back 
to  New  York  with  the  rest  of  us,  and  help  celebrate?  " 

"  I  can't,"  said  Verney,  impatiently ;  suddenly  recalled 
to  the  pressing  nature  of  the  reason  that  made  this 
delightful  plan  impossible. 

He  looked  at  his  watch,  and  with  a  hasty,  "  Bye, 
Thomas ! "  was  off  in  the  direction  of  his  hotel  at  a 
dead  run.  Reaching  it,  he  literally  hurled  the  amount 
of  his  bill  at  the  astonished  desk  clerk,  and  snatching 
his  bag  jumped  into  a  hack  and  tore  down  to  the  sta- 
tion, which  was  not  far  away,  arriving  just  in  time  to 
bundle  on  the  four  o'clock  express  for  New  York  before 
it  pulled  out. 

In  a  pleasant  back  room  of  Mrs.  Ellis's  residence 
in  Twelfth  Street  an  old  woman  lay  very  ill,  so  ill, 
indeed,  that  the  family  doctor  —  nothing  was  considered 
too  good  for  old  Nanna  in  that  household  —  had  given 
her  only  a  few  more  hours  to  live.  Deprived  by  death 
in  her  early  years  of  husband  and  little  son,  she  was 
quite  alone  in  the  world  and  had  no  relative  or  friend 
to  come  and  sit  by  her  dying  bed.  She  belonged  to 
that  most  unselfish  class  of  women  who  spend  their  lives 
in  mothering  other  people's  children,  only  to  be  for- 
gotten as  a  rule  by  the  child  they  cared  for  and  the 
parents  to  whom  they  have  rendered  this  inestimable 
service,  when  their  time  of  usefulness  is  past.  This 
was  not  true,  however,  in  the  case  of  Verney's  old 
nurse,  who,  long  after  the  children  had  grown  up,  had 

[242] 


"How  Goes  the  Fight?1 

continued  to  live  with  the  Ellises,  beloved  and  respected 
by  everybody  in  the  house. 

This  had  been  arranged  to  please  Verney,  who,  as 
a  little  boy  when  he  was  first  taken  from  his  nurse's 
charge  and  sent  to  school,  petitioned  that  Nanna  never 
be  allowed  to  go  away ;  but  as  time  went  on  Mrs.  Ellis 
found  it  a  practical  arrangement  as  well,  as  the  old 
woman  up  to  her  last  illness  was  active  and  able  and 
was  always  finding  some  new  way  to  make  herself  use- 
ful. Her  chief  care,  nevertheless,  continued  to  be  for 
Verney,  whom  she  had  never  been  able  to  consider  grown 
up;  and  the  other  servants  in  the  house  soon  realized, 
and  invariably  warned  newcomers  that  this  was  the  case ; 
that  in  regard  to  any  neglect  of  "  Mr.  Verney's  "  in- 
terests old  Nanna  had  to  be  reckoned  with. 

He  was  her  child,  her  more  than  son,  her  idol,  her 
very  all;  and  now  that  she  felt  her  end  was  close  upon 
her,  the  one  thing  she  asked  of  life  was  to  see  once 
more  the  beloved  face,  to  hear  again  the  familiar  young' 
voice  asking  "Where's  Nanna?"  the  minute  he  was 
in  the  house.  She  could  go  weeks  without  seeing  him, 
content  with  tidying  his  room,  mending  his  clothes, 
making  some  little  trifle  for  him  to  wear  —  she  was- 
an  accomplished  knitter, —  but  the  day  that  brought 
her  a  glimpse  of  him  was  a  red-letter  day  for  her,  and 
when  he  was  pleased  to  laugh  and  joke  with  her,  as  he 
often  did  when  he  had  a  minute  to  spare,  no  girl 
receiving  her  first  compliment  could  have  been  more 
pleased. 

"  Is  he  coming?  "  she  asked  for  the  hundredth  time 
[243] 


The  Politician 

from  the  bed  where  she  lay  exhausted  and  wasted  by 
her  short  fierce  struggle  with  the  dread  disease  from 
which  she  was  suffering  and  which  she  realized  was  on 
the  point  of  being  victorious.  "  Surely  he  must  be 
coming  now,  Miss  Carol?  "  She  had  been  asking  that 
question  all  that  day  and  the  preceding  one  in  her 
delirium,  and  now  that  her  head  had  become  clear,  late 
that  afternoon,  she  was  asking  it  still. 

This  interval  of  reason,  however,  far  from  being  a 
good  sign,  the  doctor  had  told  the  watchers  by  the 
bed  was  a  sure 'precursor  of  death. 

"  No,  Nanna,  not  yet ! "  poor  Carol  who  was  sitting 
beside  the  bed,  her  nose  red,  her  eyes  swollen  —  all  the 
family  were  devoted  to  Nanna  —  had  been  forced  to 
reply ;  and  she  went  to  the  window  to  see  if  a  cab  were 
turning  up  the  block. 

"  I  wish  the  young  man  could  be  hurried,"  said  the 
trained  nurse  from  the  other  side  of  the  bed,  a  typic- 
ally calm,  unimaginative  young  person  in  white  linen, 
with  the  air  common  to  her  kind,  of  expecting  to 
get  at  once  anything  she  might  ask  for,  "  this  anxiety 
is  bad  for  the  patient." 

The  old  woman  in  the  bed  spoke  again,  but  this  time 
less  plaintively  and  what  was  more  pathetic,  with  con- 
fidence. 

"  I  know  he  '11  come,"  she  said,  "  when  he  knows  his 
old  Nanna  is  going  to  leave  him !  Verney !  Verney ! 
Nanna  wants  you,  dear !  " 

The  young  girl  in  the  window  rose  softly  and  left 
the  room  that  the  "  patient "  might  not  see  her  tears. 

[244] 


"How  Goes  the  Fight?' 

"  Oh,  why  does  n't  he  come  ?  "  she  said  to  her  mother 
outside  on  the  landing  (Mrs.  Ellis  had  come  to  enquire 
how  the  sufferer  was) ;  "  it 's  the  cruellest  thing  I 
ever  heard  of,  to  keep  her  calling  for  him  like  that  just 
for  the  sake  of  his  old  politics !  If  he  does  n't  come  in 
time  —  if  Nanna  dies  —  "  she  broke  down  altogether 
and  sobbed  aloud. 

The  doctor,  who  had  not  long  been  gone,  hurried  by 
them  at  this  moment  and  entered  the  room,  and  through 
the  opened  door  they  heard  the  old  woman  singing 
"  Lead,  Kindly  Light."  Nanna  had  been  well  educated 
and  a  devoted  church-goer. 

"  The  night  is  dark,  and  I  am  far  from  home ! " 
came  the  weak  voice  of  the  dying  woman  in  the  room, 
reinforced  by  the  stronger  one  of  Miss  Hallie,  the  nurse. 
With  the  last  verse,  however, — 

"  And  with  the  morn  those  angel  faces  smile 
Which  I  have  loved  long  since,  and  lost  a  while," 

sung  brokenly  and  with  touching  expression,  Miss 
Hallie  joined  the  group  in  the  hall,  an  unwonted  emo- 
tion in  her  cold  young  face. 

"  She 's  getting  delirious  again,"  she  told  them, 
resolutely  applying  her  handkerchief  to  her  eyes. 

Mrs.  Ellis  entered  the  room,  and  on  hearing  the 
door  open  Nanna  raised  herself  suddenly  in  her  bed. 
"  I  knew  you  'd  come !  "  she  said,  "  My  baby !  My 
little  Verney ! " 

But  the  light  of  reason  was  no  longer  in  her  eyes. 

It  was  ten  o'clock  that  evening  before  Ellis  reached 
[245] 


The  Politician 

New  York.  He  had  telegraphed  from  the  train  when  he 
expected  to  arrive,  but  no  one  came  to  meet  him  as  he 
had  hoped,  to  give  him  the  news,  and  he  ran  up  the 
steps  of  his  home  with  foreboding  in  his  heart. 

His  sister  Carol,  who  had  been  watching  for  him, 
opened  the  door. 

"  Is  she  —  is  she  —  ?  —  "  began  Verney,  his  charm- 
ingly enunciative  voice  broken  and  breathless  with  haste 
and  anxiety. 

"  She  died  an  hour  ago,  calling  for  you,"  replied 
Carol,  who  was  yet  too  unreconciled  to  his  tardy  arrival 
to  wish  to  spare  him  anything. 

His  Uncle  Richmond,  who  had  gone  down  to  the  train 
after  all  to  break  the  news  of  his  old  nurse's  death  to 
Verney,  but  had  in  some  way  missed  him  at  the  station, 
came  in  at  this  moment.  He  had  been  at  his  sister's 
all  the  afternoon  and  evening,  feeling  that  his  presence 
was  a  comfort  to  her  and  to  Carol  in  this  sad  crisis, 
and  had  felt  the  pathos  of  the  dead  woman's  situation 
not  a  little;  but  at  sight  of  his  nephew  he  could  not 
suppress  his  eagerness  to  hear  how  the  day  had  gone 
for  him  at  Saratoga. 

News  of  the  Governor's  defeat  and  Ordway's  nomina- 
tion had  already  appeared  in  the  papers,  but  not  the 
nominations  for  the  minor  offices  which  had  been  made 
later. 

"  Well,  friend,  how  goes  the  fight?  "  he  said. 

"  She 's  dead,"  replied  the  Politician,  who  stood  in 
the  hall  with  bent  head.  "  I  got  here  too  late.  I 
hurried  all  I  knew,  but  it  was  too  late." 

[346] 


"How  Goes  the  Fight?' 

"  I  meant  the  outcome  of  the  Convention,  dear  boy," 
said  his  uncle  gently  placing  a  kind  hand  on  the  droop- 
ing shoulders,  "  did  you  get  the  nomination  for  Attor- 
ney-general? " 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Verney. 

"  Here 's  a  telegram  for  you,"  said  Carol,  picking- 
one  up  from  the  hat-rack,  "  it  came  just  before  you 
did,  and  I  forgot  about  it  until  now." 

"  You  open  it,  Uncle  Ritchie,"  said  Ellis  to  Mr. 
Vernor,  turning  away  his  head  as  he  spoke.  He  was 
sick  of  telegrams. 

The  older  man  obeyed,  and  reading  it,  a  smile  lit  up 
his  face  and  he  handed  it  triumphantly  to  his  nephew. 

It  was  from  Ordway,  announcing  Verney's  nomina- 
tion as  Republican  candidate  for  Attorney-general. 


[247] 


CHAPTER  XIV 

RIVALS 

THE   first  news   that   Harriet  had   of   Verney's 
nomination  was  when  she  read  it  in  the  papers 
at  the  breakfast  table  the  next  morning.     With 
pulse  and  heart-beats  a  trifle  accelerated  she  eagerly 
scanned  the  list  of  nominations  made  in  the  convention. 
"  For  Governor,"  she  read,  "  Oliver  Ordway," 
"  For  Lieutenant-governor,  Morris  Gray," 
"  For  Secretary  of  State,  Samuel  S.  Kerning," 
"  For  Attorney-general,  James  Vernor  Ellis," 
and  read  no  further. 

But  though  she  was  unable  to  keep  from  rejoicing 
that  this  good  fortune  had  befallen  Verney,  she  could 
not  on  the  other  hand  help  wishing  she  had  learned 
the  news  from  him.  He  might  so  easily  have  tele- 
graphed. She  felt  certain,  however,  that  he  would  call, 
that  whatever  reason  he  imagined  he  had  had  for  ignor- 
ing her  heretofore  would  be  forgotten  in  this  impor- 
tant crisis,  and  that  he  would  come  at  once  to  receive 
her  congratulations.  Expecting  him  momentarily  then, 
when  he  did  appear  —  which  was  not  for  three  days  — 
her  enthusiasm  had  vanished  and  the  warmth  had  de- 
parted from  her  welcome.  His  tardiness  in  sharing 
his  good  news  with  her  hurt  her  more  than  anything 

[248] 


Rivals 

he  had  yet  done.  She  was  convinced  by  it  that  his 
dependence  upon  her  for  sympathy  in  his  political  hopes 
and  ambitions  had  been  a  mockery,  his  confiding  his 
plans  to  her  nothing  more  flattering  than  the  whim  of 
a  moment.  She  had  his  utter  disregard  of  her  at  this 
important  moment  of  his  career  as  proof  of  his  in- 
sincerity. 

Verney  meanwhile  had  been  making  a  hard  struggle 
against  his  inclination  to  do  just  what  Harriet  expected 
him  to  do  —  call  and  tell  her  all  about  it.  Tired  from 
his  three  days  of  mental  and  physical  activity  at  the 
Convention,  worn  out  from  the  strain  he  had  been  under 
there  and  the  sleep  he  had  lost,  and  melancholy  and 
dispirited  as  a  consequence  of  his  old  nurse's  death  and 
the  pathetic  circumstances  under  which  she  had  died, 
for  which  he  felt  more  or  less  to  blame,  the  only  thing 
Verney  felt  he  really  wanted  to  do  was  to  go  and 
see  Harriet.  No  wonder,  then,  that  his  recent  deter- 
mination to  give  up  his  friendship  with  her,  celebrated 
with  so  much  pomp  on  the  occasion  of  the  ceremony  of 
taking  the  veil,  wavered,  and  that  the  third  day  of 
temptation  found  it  abandoned  and  Ellis  on  his  way  to 
Forty-ninth  Street.  From  which  it  is  to  be  judged 
that  Verney  was  no  better  at  keeping  good  resolutions 
than  any  one  else,  although  to  do  him  justice,  he  would 
have  kept  this  one  if  he  had  thought  for  a  moment  that 
it  had  anything  to  do  with  any  one  but  himself.  But 
he  did  n't.  He  thought,  on  the  contrary,  that  his  con- 
viction that  a  man  in  his  circumstances  should  not 
marry,  and  the  resolution  to  put  love  out  of  his  life 

[249] 


The  Politician 

which  he  had  made  on  the  strength  of  it,  was  his  affair 
alone,  affected  him  only,  and  that  he  was  less  guilty 
in  breaking  that  resolution  than  if  it  had  affected  any 
one  else. 

As  he  swung  off  the  Madison  Avenue  car  at  Forty- 
ninth  Street  and  walked  east  toward  the  house  Mrs. 
Cumloch  was  now  occupying,  he  found  himself  happier 
than  he  had  been  for  some  time,  and  it  was  with  a  warm 
sense  of  pleasure  to  come  that  he  felt  in  his  pocket  for 
the  small  white  campaign  button,  printed  in  black  -vith 
the  legend  "  For  Governor,  Oliver  Ordway  "  which  he 
had  saved  as  a  souvenir  from  the  State  Convention  to 
give  to  Miss  Rand. 

His  pleasant  anticipations  were  dispelled  however  when 
he  found  that  Harriet  had  already  four  callers  that  Sun- 
day afternoon.  He  was  terribly  disappointed ;  he  had  not 
dreamed  that  she  would  not  be  alone ;  and  then,  Harriet 
herself  was  not  any  too  delighted  to  see  him,  was  in. 
fact  horribly  cold  and  distant.  With  a  forced  manner 
quite  different  from  his  usual  friendly,  pleasant  one 
lie  spoke  to  the  other  men  in  the  room,  Gerald  Mer- 
rick,  his  Uncle  Richmond,  Robin  Hill,  and  Billy  Vande- 
water.  The  stress  and  strain  of  the  last  few  days  had 
been  too  real,  had  pulled  him  down  too  much,  to  admit 
of  a  better  simulation  of  an  enthusiasm  he  did  not  feel. 

"  Hail  the  conquering  hero !  "  said  Billy  Vandewater, 
banteringly  as  the  newcomer  found  a  seat  on  the  outer 
rim  of  the  circle  about  Harriet,  and  Verney,  who  had 
forgotten  it  for  the  moment  in  his  general  feel- 

[250] 


Rivals 

ing  of  weariness  and  depression,  remembered  quickly 
that  he  hated  Billy  Vandewater. 

A  chorus  of  congratulation  and  question  followed, 
more  or  less  sincere  —  for  Verney  was  a  favorite — • 
but  was  construed  by  its  perverse  object  as  perfunctory 
and  dismissed  by  him  as  briefly  as  possible.  Harriet, 
he  noticed  with  bitterness,  had  been  markedly  behind 
the  others  in  congratulating  him  upon  his  nomination, 
and  had  hardly  done  anything  except  fiddle  with  the 
tea  things  since  he  had  made  his  appearance.  He  be- 
gan to  wish  he  had  n't  come.  Why  should  she  fail  him 
now,  just  when  he  was  most  in  need  of  sympathy? 
What  had  he  done  to  displease  her  ?  Had  n't  he  the 
best  reason  in  the  world  for  keeping  away  from  her  and 
was  n't  he  here  at  the  cost  of  breaking  his  resolution  ? 
Had  n't  he  written  her  a  letter  from  Saratoga  ?  What 
more  did  she  want?  But  in  thus  justifying  himself 
to  himself  he  had  overlooked  the  highly  important  fact 
that  Harriet  was  ignorant  of  the  nature  of  his  "  best 
reason  in  the  world  for  keeping  away,"  utterly  in  the 
dark  as  to  his  motives  for  behaving  as  he  had  done. 

Absorbed  in  these  unprofitable  reflections,  it  took  him 
some  time  to  notice  that  he  was  being  left  entirely  out 
of  the  conversation  and  that  Harriet  was  leading  it 
with  a  brilliancy  and  light-heartedness,  not  to  say  abil- 
ity for  ignoring  him,  that  amazed  Verney,  accustomed 
as  he  was  to  the  first  claim  upon  her  attention.  Yet 
Harriet  was  not  showing  a  petty  resentment  in  her  in- 
difference to  his  presence.  He  was  too  obsessed  by  his 

[251] 


The  Politician 

own  side  of  the  question,  too  occupied  with  his  work 
to  realize  it,  but  he  had  nevertheless  given  her  just 
cause  for  feeling  hurt;  and  one  letter  from  Saratoga 
quite  devoid  as  it  was  of  apology  or  explanation  of  his 
inexplicable  change  of  attitude  toward  her,  had  not  suf- 
ficed to  banish  that  feeling.  With  all  the  will  in  the 
world  she  found  she  could  not  feel  the  same  toward  him : 
and  try  as  she  would,  her  efforts  to  talk  to  him  as  natu- 
rally as  of  old  were  failures.  And  Verney,  appreciating 
this,  fell  a  prey  to  the  deepest  gloom  and  in  the  most 
approved  Death's-Head-at-the-Feast  style,  sat  silent 
with  folded  arms  in  the  midst  of  the  laughter  and  talk. 

"  Are  n't  you  going  to  have  anything  to  eat  ?  "  Har- 
riet said  at  last  when  his  silence  had  lasted  a  long  while, 
with  a  fair  imitation  of  her  old  sweet  smile,  her  black  eyes 
glooming  at  him  from  behind  the  tea-urn. 

He  started  as  if  awakened  from  a  bad  dream,  and 
looking  up  quickly,  saw  that  his  uncle  and  the  other 
two  men  had  gone  and  that  only  Billy  Vandewater  was 
left  besides  himself.  The  realization  gave  him  new  life 
and  energy,  and  he  made  up  his  mind  in  a  flash  to  sit  the 
other  out  and  have  Harriet  all  to  himself,  when  he  hoped 
they  might  come  to  a  better  understanding.  For  he 
saw  that  he  had  hurt  her,  and  whether  he  understood 
how  he  had  done  so  or  not,  it  troubled  him. 

He  drew  up  his  chair  nearer  to  the  girl's.  "  Yes,  in- 
deed I  am,"  he  replied,  "  everything  you  have.  I  'in 
hungry ! "  He  smiled  brilliantly  and  the  color  rose  in 
his  pale  face. 

Harriet,  who  had  observed  his  pallor  and  despondent 
[252] 


Rivals 

air  with  secret  concern,  for  all  she  had  felt  so  unable  to 
show  it,  was  greatly  cheered  by  this  return  of  his  old 
spirits  and  almost  made  up  her  mind  to  forgive  his  recent 
unkindness  then  and  there. 

"  Those  soft  chocolatey  things  are  the  best,"  she 
said,  taking  a  plate  from  the  table  and  offering  it  to 
the  young  man. 

Vandewater  thought  it  time  for  him  to  "  come  in." 

Making  an  excuse  of  his  failure  to  reach  the  Sheffield 
tray  with  his  empty  cup  from  where  he  sat,  he  moved 
his  chair  up  on  the  other  side  of  Harriet's,  a  trifle 
nearer  perhaps  than  Verney  had  moved  his. 

"  How  's  politics  ?  "  he  asked,  thinking  it  advisable  to 
address  Ellis  in  friendly  fashion,  at  least  as  a  starter. 

"  Fine,  thanks,"  returned  Ellis  pleasantly.  "  How  's 
leading  cotillions  ?  " 

Verney's  reference  was  satirical,  as  the  accomplishment 
was  the  one  ostensible  occupation  Vandewater  was  known 
to  have  in  life.  Although  he  had  been  admitted  to  the 
bar  he  did  not  practise,  for  a  fortune  inherited  directly 
afterwards  had  placed  him  beyond  the  need  of  doing  so. 

"  Have  some  more  tea,  Mr.  Vandewater?  "  interposed 
Harriet  hastily,  scenting  the  battle  afar  off. 

"  <  «  There  is  n't  any  more,"  said  Alice,'  "  volunteered 
Verney  quoting  glibly  from  Lewis  Carroll,  and  he  tipped 
the  tea-pot  as  he  spoke  to  prove  the  truth  of  his  words. 

"  I  '11  get  it  filled,"  Harriet  said  laughing,  his  manner 
was  so  absurd;  "  just  ring  that  bell  over  there  will  you, 
Verney  ?  " 

"  Don't  trouble,  Miss  Rand,  I  did  n't  want  any  more," 
[253] 


The  Politician 

Yandewater  said  stiffly,  at  last  able  to  swallow  the  resent- 
ment which  Verney's  remark  had  aroused,  and  which  the 
discovery  that  he  and  Harriet  called  each  other  by  their 
first  names  had  not  tended  to  appease. 

Harriet  did  not,  however,  entirely  restore  Verney  to 
her  good  graces  that  afternoon.  She  tried  to,  but  the 
hurt  was  too  deep  to  make  such  a  rapid  healing  anything 
but  superficial.  Something  was  evidently  very  much 
amiss,  seriously  wrong. 

Verney  observed  with  concern  that  she  was  natural 
with  him  only  by  fits  and  starts  and  that  she  seemed  much 
more  at  ease  with  Vandewater,  turning  to  him  more 
frequently  and  seeming  more  anxious  to  hear  what  he 
had  to  say  on  the  various  subjects  of  conversation  that 
were  brought  up.  A  horrible  feeling  that  he  was  mak- 
ing a  mistake  in  supposing  that  she  would  want  to  talk 
to  him  alone  came  over  him,  as  he  saw  how  gladly  and 
how  often  she  appealed  to  the  other  man,  and  he  began 
to  think  she  would  prefer  to  have  Vandewater  the  last 
caller  to  take  his  leave.  She  might  even  be  in  love  with 
the  fellow,  for  all  he  knew !  There  had  been  plenty  of 
time  for  that  phenomenon  to  have  occurred,  his  exag- 
gerated state  of  apprehension  told  him,  during  the 
two  weeks  in  which  he  had  seen  nothing  of  her  himself; 
and  which  the  rich  and  idle  Mr.  Vandewater  had  probably 
put  to  good  advantage. 

The  thought  almost  compelled  him  to  take  his  de- 
parture at  once,  but  his  reluctance,  which  by  this  time 
seemed  inborn  in  him,  to  leave  the  other  man  victor  of 
any  field  upon  which  they  had  both  entered,  kept  him 

[254] 


Rivals 

where  he  was.  If  it  had  been  any  other  than  Billy  Vande- 
water,  if  other  people  had  been  there,  he  would  not  have 
hesitated;  but  the  bare  idea  of  seeming  to  retire  beaten 
under  the  eyes  of  this  extremely  distasteful  person  made 
his  gorge  rise  and  glued  him  to  his  chair.  He  would 
sit  Vandewater  out  at  any  cost.  Unfortunately  for 
the  success  of  this  plan  Miss  Hand's  other  caller  had  hit 
upon  the  same  scheme,  had  made  up  his  mind  about  the 
same  time  to  sit  his  rival  out ;  and  as  with  him  a  deter- 
mination amounted  to  obstinacy,  it  seemed  quite  likely 
the  call  would  never  terminate,  and  that  the  three  would 
sit  there  all  night. 

It  was  the  girl  herself  who  finally  put  an  end  to  the 
situation.  Rising  with  the  sweetest  kind  of  dignity,  she 
gave  each  young  man  in  turn  her  hand  in  token  of  dis- 
missal and  explained  very  gently  but  decidedly  that  she 
was  very  sorry  she  could  n't  ask  them  to  dinner  but 
she  was  dining  out  herself  and  it  was  time  to  dress.  She 
was  sure  they  did  n't  know  how  late  it  was. 

Verney  was  the  first  to  reach  the  street.  Mortified 
that  he  had  allowed  his  feeling  of  antagonism  for  Vande- 
water to  lead  him  into  showing  a  lack  of  consideration 
for  Harriet,  convinced  that  he  had  displeased  her  by  his 
conduct  that  afternoon,  and  half  angry  with  her  as 
well  for  having  rebuked  them  —  for  though  accom- 
plished with  exquisite  tact  the  dismissal  had  been  in  the 
nature  of  a  rebuke  —  this  unreasonable  young  man  with 
the  boyish  quickness  of  temper  came  at  once  to  the  con- 
clusion that  it  would  be  a  matter  of  necessity  as  well  as 
expediency  on  his  part  to  forgo  her  society  in  the  future. 

[255] 


The  Politician 

'"Here,"  he  said,  stopping  a  small  boy  of  the  street 
tirchin  variety  who  was  sauntering  by,  "  don't  you  want 
a,  souvenir  from  the  Saratoga  convention  ?  "  He  fished 
out  the  white  tin  button  from  his  pocket  as  he  spoke 
with  "  For  Governor,  Oliver  Ordway,"  on  it  which  he 
had  been  too  disgusted  with  the  result  of  his  call  to  offer 
to  Harriet. 

"  Sure,"  said  the  small  boy  who  made  it  a  rule  to  take 
anything  that  was  offered  him  and  who  always  wanted 
everything,  halting  expectantly. 

He  showed  more  enthusiasm,  however,  and  less  matter- 
of-fact  acquiescence  when  he  actually  saw  what  it  was 
the  "  swell "  wanted  to  give  him,  and  as  Verney  ex- 
plained its  significance  his  eyes  snapped  with  delight. 
Here  was  a  trophy  indeed  to  display  before  the  other 
**kids,"  a  campaign  button  from  the  scene  of  battle 
with  the  name  of  the  victorious  Republican  candidate  for 
Governor  on  it! 

"  Dontcher  want  it  yourself? "  he  asked,  gazing 
amazedly  up  into  the  young  man's  face  as  Verney  pinned 
it  carefully  on  the  ragged  lapel  of  his  little  jacket. 

"  No,"  said  the  Politician,  "  not  any  more.  I  was 
going  to  give  it  to  my  girl,  but  she  's  gone  back  on  me !  " 

He  had  hardly  released  the  boy  whose  impatience  to 
go  and  "  show  the  other  kids  "  had  made  the  process  of 
pinning  on  a  lengthy  one,  when  Vandewater  caught  up 
with  him. 

"  Going  my  way  ?  "  asked  Verney,  casual  but  polite. 

"No,  I'm  not,"  said  the  other,  "I  just  wanted  a 
match,  if  you  have  one." 

[256] 


Rivals 

"  Certainly,"  said  Vemey,  offering  a  box  of  safeties, 

"  Thanks,"  said  Vandewater  lighting  his  cigarette 
carefully  and  returning  the  box.  Then,  just  as  he 
turned  away,  "  Oh,  by  the  by,  Ellis,  perhaps  you  '11  be 
interested  in  something  I  've  just  decided  to  do?  " 

"  Perhaps,"  returned  Verney  lightly,  pausing  to  hear 
what  the  other  had  to  say. 

"  I  'm  going  to  run  for  Attorney-general  on  the 
Democratic  ticket,"  said  Vandewater. 


17  [  257  ] 


CHAPTER  XV 

THE  ONE  THING  A  WOMAN  MUST  NOT  SAY 

ALMOST  a  month  had  passed  since  the  open-air 
horse-show,  but  the  beautiful  Mrs.  Gibbs  had 
not  as  yet  forgotten  that  on  the  occasion  of 
the  club  dance  in  the  evening  Verney  Ellis  had  not  danced 
with  her  and  had  danced  with  Miss  Rand.  The  very 
recollection  of  their  utter  absorption  in  each  other  as 
they  danced,  and  their  indifference  to  her  presence  as  she 
watched  them  from  the  door,  made  her  wince  and  writhe 
and  set  her  hazel  eyes  to  sparkling.  For  the  plain  truth 
and  the  ugly  truth  was  that  the  beautiful  Mrs.  Gibbs 
was  jealous  of  the  young  heiress  from  the  West.  She 
would  not  have  admitted  it  herself,  however,  but  would 
have  characterized  her  feeling  as  a  perfectly  just  resent- 
ment of  Harriet's  apparent  appropriation  of  her  prop- 
erty, and  during  the  weeks  that  followed  the  dance  where 
such  a  marked  instance  of  that  appropriation  had  taken 
place,  she  thought  of  nothing  but  how  she  might  weaken 
the  girl's  influence  —  turn  Verney's  mind  from  all 
thought  of  her.  Interference  was  really  necessary ;  if 
something  was  n't  done  in  a  hurry,  she  almost  feared 
he  might  marry  Miss  Rand !  And  then  what  would  be- 
come of  his  career?  and  incidentally  —  though  this 
reason  Mrs.  Gibbs  was  careful  to  keep  in  the  background 

[258] 


A  Woman  Must  Not  Say 

of  her  mind, —  what  was  to  become  of  her  little  flirta- 
tion with  the  young  man? 

The  bare  idea  of  such  a  traitorous  act  on  Verney's 
part  as  getting  married  set  his  self-appointed  guardian 
and  supposed  friend  to  plotting  to  see  what  spoke  could 
be  applied  to  this  threatening  wheel.  It  should  be  ap- 
plied with  a  skilful  hand,  of  course,  and  if  possible  was 
to  be  the  smallest,  most  microscopic  of  spokes  —  a  mere 
hint  or  suggestion  —  but  applied  it  must  be.  Of  that 
she  was  convinced.  Did  any  one  have  the  right  to  de- 
prive her  of  the  thing  that  most  amused  and  interested 
her  in  life,  her  friendship  with  Verney  Ellis?  She 
thought  not. 

The  first  thing  to  be  done  toward  accomplishing  her 
purpose  was  to  get  hold  of  the  young  man  himself, 
but  for  some  reason  this  seemed  very  difficult  to  do. 
Except  for  a  brief  word  at  a  dinner-party  one  evening 
she  had  not  had  speech  with  him  since  the  day  of  the 
horse-show.  She  had  written  him  her  prettiest  notes 
proposing  luncheon  down  town  and  quiet  dinners  with 
"  Willie  away,"  and  had  telephoned  him  till  she  was 
ashamed  to  do  it  again,  but  Verney  had  declined  all  in- 
vitations to  go  and  chatter  with  his  charming  friend. 
He  was  "  busy  "  he  said,  in  answer  to  them  all,  invariably 
that  and  nothing  more. 

And  this  was  only  the  truth.  He  was  busy.  Vande- 
water  with  all  the  money  he  wanted  to  back  him,  and 
some  friends  with  political  influence,  had  had  no  difficulty 
in  getting  himself  nominated  for  Attorney-general  at 
the  Democratic  Convention,  held  not  many  days  after 

[259] 


The  Politician 

• 

the  one  at  Saratoga.  The  campaign  for  Governor,  with 
the  other  offices  included  in  the  Republican  and  Demo- 
cratic tickets,  had  been  begun  with  a  rush,  for  it  was 
late  in  starting  that  year  like  the  national  campaign  and 
had  to  be  a  short  one ;  and  with  his  friend  Ordway's 
interests  to  work  for  as  well  as  his  own,  Verney  felt  he 
tad  his  hands  too  full  for  idling. 

Chance  favored  Mrs.  Gibbs,  however,  when  every- 
thing else  had  failed,  and  returning  from  down-town  one 
morning  in  her  brougham,  she  saw  the  graceful,  erect 
form  of  the  Politician  walking  down  the  avenue.  In  a 
second  she  had  signalled  her  coachman  to  draw  in  to  the 
curb  and  Verney,  halted  by  a  violently  waved  handker- 
chief, perceived  that  he  was  run  to  earth.  With  his 
sweetest  smile,  therefore,  in  token  of  surrender  he  stepped 
into  the  carriage  beside  her. 

"  Let 's  go  somewhere  for  luncheon !  "  said  the  fair 
pirate  of  the  high  avenue. 

"  Anywhere,  everywhere,  I  will  follow  on ! "  replied 
Verney  in  hymnal  paraphrase.  Having  been  fairly 
caught,  he  was  resolved  to  be  an  amiable  prisoner,  and 
then  he  never  attempted  to  deny  that  he  was  fond  of 
Cora  Keator  Gibbs  and  of  talking  to  her,  or  rather  of 
listening  to  her  talk. 

"  Sherry's,"  said  Mrs.  Gibbs  to  the  coachman. 

Verney  glanced  covertly  at  his  watch.  He  had  a 
pressing  engagement  at  the  Republican  headquarters  at 
two  o'clock,  for  having  devoted  himself  conscientiously 
to  his  law  business  all  that  morning  he  felt  at  liberty 
to  do  a  little  work  on  the  campaign.  It  was  then  twelve 

[260] 


A  Woman  Must  Not  Say 

—  just  time  enough  to  lunch  with  a  woman.  Though 
it  often  took  more  than  two  hours  he  had  never  been 
able  to  do  it  in  less.  With  Cora  Gibbs,  fortunately,  he 
could  reduce  the  time  to  its  minimum.  That  was  the 
advantage  of  knowing  her  so  well.  They  were  early 
enough  to  get  a  table  in  the  corner  and  by  the  window, 
the  two  essentials  to  thorough  enjoyment  of  a  luncheon 
tete-a-tete,  and  Verney  sat  down  with  a  feeling  that  it 
was  n't  half  bad  to  eat  in  Christian  fashion  again.  He 
generally  had  a  sandwich  and  something  to  drink  in  the 
middle  of  the  day,  or  if  more  than  usually  pressed  for 
time,  only  something  to  drink,  and  sometimes  neither. 

Perhaps  it  was  a  good  thing,  after  all,  to  have  leisure- 
forced  upon  you  if  you  did  n't  ever  feel  like  taking  it 
yourself. 

"  Let 's  have  melons  first,"  he  said ;  "  you  can't  have 
them  much  later  than  September." 

"  Yes,"  agreed  Mrs.  Gibbs,  raising  her  veil  and  remov- 
ing her  gloves. 

"  And  let  me  see, —  how  would  a  frightened  egg  do 
after  that?" 

She  laughed.     "  I  don't  know  what  that  is,"  she  said. 

"  Yes,  you  do.  The  way  they  cook  eggs  here  — '* 
He  looked  at  the  waiter  for  assistance,  who  said  he  knew 
what  the  gentleman  meant  and  would  bring  it. 

"  You  don't  seem  to  think  this  is  my  luncheon ! " 
Mrs.  Gibbs  reminded  him,  when  they  had  finished  order- 
ing and  the  waiter  had  departed. 

"  I  don't,"  said  Verney  smiling,  "  because  you  know 
and  I  know  that  it 's  mine  and  under  no  circumstances; 

[261] 


The  Politician 

'could  it  be  jours  !  "  He  might  have  added  with  truth : 
"  Also  that  you  can  afford  to  pay  the  ten  dollars  it 's 
going  to  cost,  and  I  can't,"  if  the  truth  on  such  matters 
were  ever  spoken. 

"  Why  did  n't  you  come  and  let  me  congratulate  you 
on  your  nomination  ? "  she  asked  him,  leaning  both 
elbows  on  the  table,  and  looking  at  him  a  little  reproach- 
fully. 

"  I  could  not  find  the  time,  Cora.  I  swear  to  the 
Lord  I  could  n't !  "  he  assured  her  earnestly  ;  "  I  've  been 
too  awfully  rushed." 

"  I  know  and  I  understand,"  she  replied  soothingly. 
It  was  n't  her  plan  to  scold  him ;  she  wanted  him  to  be  in 
the  best  of  humors  when  it  came  time  to  hurl  her  bolt. 
*'  I  would  n't  have  wanted  you  to  come  if  it  meant  slight- 
ing your  work,  you  know  that." 

"  I  do,"  he  said  gratefully ;  "  you  always  understand 
everything.  I  don't  have  to  be  forever  thinking  what 
I  Jm  saying  and  doing  for  fear  of  offending  you,  as  I 
have  to  with  most  women." 

"  Careful,  Verney,  careful ! "  she  admonished  play- 
fully. "  You  '11  have  to  do  lots  better  than  that  if  we 
are  to  remain  friends, —  only  friends ! "  Her  laugh 
rang,  but  her  eyes  were  tender. 

"  Why  ?  I  don't  have  to  feel '  responsible  '  when  I  'm 
with  you,  do  I?  You  're  not  going  to  apply  your  pre- 
posterous theory  to  us,  are  you?  " 

She  saw  that  she  had  taken  the  wrong  tack  and  re- 
assured him  hastily.  "  I  should  think  you  did  n't ! 


A  Woman  Must  Not  Say 

What!  with  your  sister  Cora?     Years  and  years  older 
than  you? " 

It  was  Verney's  cue  to  deny,  and  he  always  took  it 
with  enthusiasm. 

"  Younger,  you  mean,"  he  said.  "  I  give  you  my 
word,  I  never  saw  anything  younger  than  you  are  to- 
day ! "  he  gazed  appreciatively  at  her  brilliant  color,  her 
dazzling  hair,  and  sparkling  eyes,  which  formed  such 
bright  contrast  to  her  severely  plain  suit  of  dark  blue. 

"  There  you  go  again,"  she  remonstrated,  "  but  it 's 
no  use ;  I  have  a  stiff  neck  —  caught  cold  in  it  yesterday 
—  and  my  head  won't  turn  !  " 

"  Can't  I  say  nice  things,  then,  when  I  think  them?  " 

"  All  you  want,  on  the  contrary,"  she  replied  with 
emphasis.  "  I  've  an  ostrich's  digestion  for  nice 
things ! " 

The  time  went  very  pleasantly  for  Verney,  and  Mrs. 
'Gibbs,  with  whom  it  was  a  conviction  that  to  make  a 
man  laugh  was  to  render  him  half  won  and  to  make  him 
think  he  could  make  her  laugh  was  to  render  him  all 
hers,  had  kept  him  so  charmed  first  with  her  and  then 
with  himself,  that  he  was  very  nearly  in  a  good  enough 
humor,  she  thought,  to  be  approached  on  the  subject  of 
his  folly  in  paying  serious  attention  to  Harriet  Rand. 

"  Have  you  heard  Stevie  Cass's  latest?  "  she  asked,  as 
they  began  their  fruit  salad. 

"  No ;  what 's  the  bright  boy  been  saying  now  ?  " 
asked  Verney,  smiling  in  anticipation  of  something  good. 
Cass  was  quite  the  professional  wag. 

[263] 


The  Politician 

"  It  was  apropos  of  Roberta  Caldee's  breaking  her 
engagement  to  Nate  Bronson  because  she  discovered 
he  'd  been  engaged  before,"  Mrs.  Gibbs  began  with 
relish.  "  It 's  awfully  sacrilegious,  but  Stevie  said," — 
she  interrupted  herself  to  laugh  — "  that  the  first  com- 
mandment according  to  Roberta,  was  '  Thou  shalt  have 
no  other  girls  before  me ! ' : 

Verney  nodded  approvingly.  "  That 's  one  of  his 
best,"  he  said. 

"  You  've  heard  it  before !  You  know  it !  "  accused 
Cora. 

"  No,  I  know  Stevie ! "  Ellis  replied. 

"  And  he  told  you  himself?  " 

"  Yes,  I  saw  him  last  night.  He  never  likes  to  have 
his  friends  miss  his  good  things,  you  know." 

"  Poor  Stevie !  He  ought  to  be  in  a  better  business 
than  making  jokes !  He  has  too  little  money  to  spend 
to  be  idle." 

"  Especially  when  he  has  so  many  girls !  Never  saw- 
such  a  fellow  for  girls !  If  he  sends  flowers  to  them  all, 
it  must  break  him !  " 

"  He  does,  but  it  does  n't  break  him,  because  he  sends 
all  the  bills  to  his  father!  But  tell  me,  Verney,  speak- 
ing of  girls,  have  n't  you  a  new  one  yourself?  Billy 
Vandewater  was  saying  only  the  other  day  that  you  were 
seriously  interested  in  your  friend  from  Chicago ! " 

"  We  have  talked  about  that  before,"  said  Verney, 
with  deep  displeasure.  The  quotation  from  Vandewater 
and  the  expression  "  your  friend  "  were  equally  distaste- 
ful to  him. 

[264] 


A  Woman  Must  Not  Say 

Mrs.  Gibbs  saw  that  her  approach-shot,  so  to  speak, 
had  not  landed  on  the  green,  and  she  dropped  her  light 
tone  immediately  and  spoke  pleadingly,  leaning  toward 
him  with  earnest  eyes. 

"  Don't  be  cross,"  she  said.  "  I  don't  want  to  talk 
about  it  because  I  want  to  pry  into  your  affairs  or  gos- 
sip, but  only  because  I  'm  interested  in  you,  and  I  don't 
want  you  to  do  anything  I  should  consider  foolish  with- 
out trying  to  stop  you !  " 

"  And  what  would  you  consider  foolish  ?  "  he  asked, 
somewhat  softened  by  her  apparent  sincerity  and  anxiety 
for  his  welfare. 

"  Marrying,"  she  said. 

Verney  looked  out  of  the  window.  "  I  told  you  what 
I  was  going  to  do  about  that  the  other  week.  I  told 
you  I  did  n't  intend  to  marry,  and  why." 

"  Yes,  you  did,  and  I  approved  of  your  resolution. 
But  what  I  'm  afraid  of  is,  that  if  you  really  permit 
yourself  to  fall  in  love,  you  '11  break  your  resolution. 
It 's  easy  enough  to  stick  to  it  while  there  's  no  tempta- 
tion to  face,  but  — " 

"  But  when  there  is,  you  think  I  won't  be  able  to  with- 
stand it  ?  You  have  n't  a  very  high  opinion  of  my  will 
power !  "  he  interrupted. 

"  It  is  n't  that,  only  I  can't  help  feeling  anxious." 

"  Why  ?  What  is  it  to  you  ?  "  He  was  beginning  to 
wonder  that  she  should  show  quite  such  concern. 

"  Oh,  Verney !  I  should  be  so  disappointed,  so  sorry ! 
I  could  n't  bear  to  see  you  give  up  your  career,  your 
ambitions,  at  your  age." 

[265] 


The  Politician 

"  I  think  it  would  be  a  pity  myself,  if  I  did." 

"  Such  a  pity !  And  I  'm  awfully  afraid  you  're 
going  to  do  it !  I  've  some  very  good  intuitions  where 
my  friends  are  concerned,  and  I  seem  to  feel,  I  seem  to 
feel  — "  her  tone  was  that  of  a  seer  — "  that  you  're 
on  the  point  of  committing  yourself  to  Miss  Rand !  " 
She  did  feel  that  way,  but  it  was  her  jealousy,  not  her 
intuition,  that  told  her  so.  If  she  had  only  understood 
the  situation  a  little  better,  if  her  clairvoyance  had  only 
been  able  to  inform  her  of  the  true  state  of  the  case,  that 
far  from  being  on  the  point  of  committing  himself  to 
Miss  Rand,  Verney  had  only  lately  taken  a  positive 
resolution  never  even  to  call  upon  her  again  —  how  much 
trouble  the  beautiful  Mrs.  Gibbs  would  have  saved  her- 
self !  "  And  I  'm  so  proud  of  you,  Verney,  you  know !  " 
she  went  on,  murmuringly.  "  I  hate  to  see  you  throw 
yourself  away  so  young.  No  man  with  so  brilliant  a 
prospect  before  him  as  you  have  " —  the  emphasis  on 
the  "  you  "  was  most  flattering,  and  Ellis  was  not  in- 
sensible to  it  — "  can  afford  to  tie  himself  up  in  that 
way.  Not  until  he  's  years  older !  " 

"  I  agree  with  you  perfectly,"  said  the  young  man. 
"  There  's  no  doubt  in  the  world  in  my  mind  that  mar- 
riage now  would  interfere  with  my  work.  Unless,  of 
course  I  were  such  a  brute  as  not  to  let  it  interfere !  " 
He  paused.  "  So  you  see  it  looks  as  if  I  would  have 
to  remain  a  bachelor." 

"  Because  you're  not  a  brute?" 

"  Just  that.  So  you  see  you  're  worrying  yourself 
unnecessarily." 

[266] 


A  Woman  Must  Not  Say 

"  Oh,  do  you  think  so?  "  she  cried  gladly.  "  Can  you 
really  assure  me  of  that?  I  'm  so  pleased,  so  relieved !  " 
Then  rapidly,  impulsively,  "  I  've  planned  such  great 
things  for  you,  you  know.  I  expect  you  to  go  so  far ! 
Quite  as  far  as  the  White  House ! "  She  smiled  very 
engagingly  at  him. 

He  smiled  too.  The  White  House  was  not  an  am- 
bition of  his,  but  he  felt  she  said  it  to  prove  her  de- 
votion to  him  and  her  faith  in  his  success,  and  did  not 
gainsay  her. 

"  Pretty  nearly  time  to  go,"  he  said.  "  I  know  it 's 
rude  to  look  at  my  watch  like  this,  but  that 's  what  you 
get  for  lunching  with  a  man  with  political  engagements 
to  keep." 

But  Mrs.  Gibbs  did  not  rise.  She  was  not  ready  to 
go  yet,  she  had  one  more  question  to  ask  the  young  man. 
She  had  not  heard  Verney  deny  his  devotion  to  Harriet 
Rand  quite  as  explicitly  as  she  wished  him  to.  The  gen- 
eral statement  that  he  was  not  going  to  marry  did  not 
altogether  satisfy  her  hunger  to  hear  that  he  was,  as  he 
had  always  been,  or  as  she  thought  he  had  always  been 
—  hers  and  hers  only. 

"You  aren't  interested  in  her,  then?  Billy  Vande- 
water  was  mistaken  ?  "  she  said  —  the  knowledge  that 
she  was  doing  a  foolish  thing,  that  she  was  in  danger  of 
losing  all  the  effect  of  her  previous  diplomacy  by  this 
bald,  point-blank  question,  lending  a  peculiarly  breath- 
less quality  to  her  voice. 

Verney  looked  at  her  in  some  surprise.  "  I  did  n't 
say  that,"  he  asserted ;  "  I  could  n't,  because  I  happen 

[267] 


The  Politician 

to  think  a  great  deal  of  Miss  Rand,  if  that 's  whom  you 
are  talking  about." 

"  You  mean  you  're  in  love  with  her?  "  asked  Mrs. 
Gibbs,  carried  on  to  her  fate  by  a  resistless  tide  of  jeal- 
ousy that  swept  away  every  other  consideration  whether 
of  propriety  or  diplomacy.  Her  insatiable  curiosity  to 
know  the  worst  rendered  her  indifferent  to  the  risk  she 
ran  that  Verney  would  discover  her  true  motive  for  ad- 
vising him  against  marriage,  that  it  had  been  her  own 
selfish  desire  to  retain  her  hold  upon  him,  and  not  solely 
an  interest  in  his  welfare.  And  this  in  spite  of  the  fact 
that  she  knew,  as  a  woman  of  her  intelligence  could  not 
help  knowing,  that  such  a  discovery  on  his  part  would  be 
as  mortal  a  blow  to  their  friendship  as  his  marriage  could 
possibly  be. 

"  You  mean  you  're  in  love  with  her?  "  she  repeated 
while  Verney  hesitated. 

"  I  hardly  know,"  he  said.  He  was  certain  he  was 
not  in  love  with  Harriet,  but  he  was  not  certain  he 
was  n't  very  near  it.  At  any  rate  he  did  not  propose  to 
discuss  the  pros  and  cons  of  the  matter  with  Cora  Gibbs. 

"  That  means  you  are !  Oh,  Verney !  Verney !  " 
wailed  Cora  Gibbs,  concluding  the  worst  from  this  non- 
committal statement;  and  then  with  a  masterly  effort  to 
regain  her  impersonal  interested-friend  manner,  "  I  'm 
so  disappointed!  What  will  become  of  your  career?" 

Her  persistent  interference  in  his  affairs  angered 
Verney. 

"  What 's  Miss  Rand  got  to  do  with  my  career?  "  he 
asked  fiercely.  "  I  would  be  obliged  if  you  would  leave 

[268] 


A  Woman  Must  Not  Say 

her  out  of  the  discussion.  Besides,"  he  added  less 
sternly,  *'  as  I  've  told  you  before,  I  don't  intend  to 
marry,  so  what  difference  does  it  make  whether  I  'm  in 
love  or  not?  " 

But  that  was  just  where  Mrs.  Gibbs  disagreed  with 
him.  She  thought  it  made  all  the  difference  in  the 
world,  so  much,  indeed,  that  if  he  was  in  love  —  and  she 
had  about  made  up  her  mind  by  this  time  that  he  was  — 
she  was  convinced,  as  she  had  confessed  to  him  she  was, 
that  no  amount  of  resolutions  by  themselves  would  serve 
to  keep  him  from  marrying. 

There  was  only  one  recourse  at  her  command  that 
she  could  think  of  with  which  to  try  to  avert  this  terrible 
catastrophe.  If  tears  and  entreaties  and  a  confession  of 
her  feeling  for  him  could  keep  Verney  single  he  should 
not  be  lost  for  want  of  them.  In  her  determination  not 
to  be  beaten,  not  to  allow  the  young  man  to  escape  from 
under  her  influence,  she  did  not  recognize  this  as  the 
argument  of  despair  and  the  same  disastrous  policy 
which  her  cooler  common  sense  had  rejected  a  moment 
ago.  Truly  she  was  being  carried  on  to  her  fate  by  a 
resistless  tide.  She  cast  a  glance  in  the  mirror  as  they 
left  the  room  and  saw  with  satisfaction  that  she  was 
looking  her  very  best,  for  her  very  best  as  she  knew 
well,  would  be  a  compelling  factor  in  the  success  of  her 
next  move. 

"  Get  in  and  let  me  drop  you  where  you  want  to  go," 
said  she,  as  her  brougham  drew  up  at  the  curb  outside. 

Verney  hesitated.  He  had  begun  to  feel  that  he  was 
being  coerced ;  from  what  motive  he  did  n't  quite 

[269] 


The  Politician 

gather,  but  the  feeling  was  a  definite  one.  It  was  also 
likely  to  be  fatal  to  Mrs.  Gibbs's  plan,  since  there  is 
nothing  so  unmanageable  as  a  young  man  who  begins 
to  get  the  idea  that  he  is  being  "  managed."  But  in 
spite  of  this  apprehension  Ellis  decided  to  accept  Mrs. 
Gibbs's  offer  after  all.  The  probabilities  were  that  she 
had  not  meant  to  be  domineering  or  anything  more  than 
friendly,  in  taking  such  an  interest  in  his  affairs,  and 
anyway  he  was  late  for  his  appointment. 

"  Thanks,"  he  said,  getting  in  after  her. 

"  Verney,"  Mrs.  Gibbs  said  solemnly  when  they  had 
gone  a  few  blocks  in  the  direction  Verney  had  wished  to 
go,  which  fortunately  for  her  schemes,  led  through 
quiet  and  deserted  streets.  "  Do  you  really  know  why 
I  was  so  anxious  for  fear  you  were  going  to  marry  that 
girl?" 

"  Yes,"  he  replied,  looking  at  her  in  astonishment  and 
not  liking  the  "  that  girl "  at  all,  "  you  thought  it 
would  be  an  unwise  thing  to  do  if  I  were  going  to  suc- 
ceed in  politics,  was  n't  that  it  ?  " 

"  No,"  she  said  softly,  and  he  realized  suddenly  how 
near  she  was ;  "  I  was  anxious  only  on  my  own  account, 
not  yours,  because  I  did  n't  want  to  have  our  friendship 
broken  up,  because  I  did  n't  want  to  lose  you,  because 
I  'm  fond  of  you  myself ! 

"  Don't  go  and  get  married,  Verney  dear,"  she  hur- 
ried on  before  he  could  interrupt.  "  Don't  go  and  spoil 
everything.  We  've  had  such  good  times  together,  and 
we  can  have  so  many  more  if  only  you  will  be  sensible 
and  not  tie  yourself  down  to  a  hearthstone !  And  I  can 

[270] 


A  Woman  Must  Not  Say 

help  you,  advise  you  in  the  difficult  path  to  success 
you  've  cut  out  for  yourself,  ever  so  much  better  than 
any  little  fool  of  a  girl  who  knows  nothing  at  all.  You 
know  I  can ! "  Her  flushed  face  and  pleading,  shining 
eyes  lent  her  an  almost  supernatural  loveliness. 

"  Ah,  Verney,  Verney ! "  she  cried  in  answer  to  his 
look  of  utter  amazement  and  incredulity,  "  don't  you 
understand?  It 's  just  that  I  can't  give  you  up,  I  can't 
let  you  belong  to  any  one  else!  I  can't,  indeed,  I 
can't!" 

He  felt  her  arms  go  about  his  neck  and  a  soft,  ex- 
quisite cheek  pressed  against  his  chin. 

"  If  you  do,"  she  murmured  in  his  ear,  "  if  you  do  go 
and  marry  some  one  else  and  never  come  to  see  me  any 
more  " —  with  a  half -hysterical  sob  — "  I  shall  die !  " 

It  was  a  rude  shock  to  the  Politician.  Until  now  he 
had  relied  upon  the  clever  and  beautiful  Mrs.  Gibbs 
for  common  sense  before  everything  else,  had  taken  for 
granted  that  she  understood  as  well  as  he  did  himself 
the  irresponsible  nature  of  the  affair  between  them,  es- 
pecially as  it  was  founded  upon  a  lifelong  intimacy. 

Yet  here  she  was  hysterical  in  his  arms  like  any 
ordinary  woman,  reiterating  the  astonishing  confession 
that  she  was  in  love  with  him  —  that  is,  if  his  stunned 
faculties  permitted  him  correctly  to  grasp  the  situation. 
It  was  incredible  to  the  point  of  being  ridiculous,  and 
he  could  hardly  recognize  unemotional,  calm,  brilliant 
Cora  Gibbs,  his  friend  and  comrade  of  so  many  evenings, 
pleasantly  spiced  with  flirtation  as  they  had  been  —  his 
admiration  for  whom  he  had  never  made  any  attempt  to 

[271] 


The  Politician 

hide  —  in  this  sobbing,  demoralized  creature  that  clasped 
his  neck  so  wildly. 

Very  gently  but  decidedly  he  removed  her  clinging 
fingers,  forcing  her  to  sit  upright.  "  I  'm  sorry,  Cora," 
he  said  gravely.  "  I  had  n't  the  least  idea  of  this  —  that 
you  felt  that  way."  And  by  the  very  tone  of  his  voice 
she  saw  that  it  was  all  over,  that  her  trump  card  had 
met  with  disastrous  and  overwhelming  defeat. 

In  the  shock  of  this  rebuff  as  they  sat  and  stared  at 
each  other  she  realized  that  she  had  made  a  mistake  and 
an  irretrievable  one,  that  she  had  said  the  one  thing  a 
woman  who  has  not  been  asked  to  say  it  must  never  say 
to  a  man,  if  she  does  n't  want  to  lose  him  at  once  and 
forever.  She  had  told  him,  or  intimated  at  least,  that 
she  cared  for  him,  and  far  from  binding  him  more 
firmly  to  her,  the  intelligence  had  put  an  end  to  the 
intimacy  as  summarily  as  a  scissors  severs  a  taut  string. 
It  was  n't  true,  of  course ;  she  did  n't  really  love  him  in 
the  sense  that  she  wished  to  marry  him,  for  she  was 
married  already  and  happened  to  love  her  husband; 
but  her  vanity  had  not  been  able  to  suffer  the  thought 
that  another  woman  should  deprive  her  of  this  young 
man's  society,  upon  which  she  depended  for  most  of  the 
amusement  she  got  out  of  life,  and  had  compelled  her 
to  try  to  keep  him  hers  at  any  cost.  But  in  telling  him 
as  a  means  to  this  end  that  she  loved  him,  she  had  over- 
reached herself;  for  having  said  it,  she  could  not  go 
back  on  it  —  a  confession  of  love  being  the  one  thing 
a  woman  cannot  retract. 

Furious  with  herself  for  her  folly  in  getting  into  this 
[272] 


A  Woman  Must  Not  Say 

false  position,  furious  with  him  for  being  the  cause  of 
her  discomfiture,  poor  Cora  pressed  a  button  that  sig- 
nalled her  coachman,  and  the  carriage  stopped. 

"  This  is  where  you  wanted  to  get  out,  is  n't  it  ?  " 
she  said  coldly  enough,  though  the  fury  of  a  woman 
scorned  smouldered  in  her  eye,  and  she  jerked  open  the 
door. 

The  tone  of  Verney's  reply  was  emphatic  and  de- 
cided. 

"  I  think  it  is,"  he  said. 


'8  [  273  ] 


CHAPTER  XVI 

LIGHT 

HARRIET'S  hurt  feeling  that  Verney  had  not 
behaved  at  all  kindly  toward  her  in  not  com- 
ing to  see  her  immediately  upon  his  return 
from  Saratoga  had  endured  several  days  after  that 
Sunday  when  he  and  Vandewater  distinguished  them- 
selves by  trying  to  sit  each  other  out.  It  was  swallowed 
up,  however,  in  a  flood  of  sympathy  and  concern  one 
afternoon  during  a  talk  with  Mr.  Vernor,  when  she 
learned  from  him  that  Ellis's  affairs  were  in  bad  shape 
financially  and  that  his  chance  of  making  a  successful 
run  for  Attorney-general  was  a  small  one  if  more  money 
were  not  forthcoming.  It  looked,  Mr.  Vernor  said,  as 
if  his  nephew  would  not  be  able  to  meet  the  ordinary 
legitimate  expenses  of  the  campaign. 

Vandewater,  on  the  other  hand,  was  spending  money 
right  and  left  with  a  free  hand  at  the  dictation  of  the 
Democratic  politicians  who  had  his  interests  in  charge, 
and  the  result  was  beginning  to  show  itself  in  the  rapid 
development  of  a  large  and  powerful  constituency  in  his 
support.  While  the  opposing  candidate  —  Verney  — 
was  practically  running  his  own  campaign,  Vandewater 
was  entirely  in  the  hands  of  his  political  friends,  who 

[274] 


Light 

for  this  reason  and  that,  chiefly  self-interested  ones, 
had  promised  to  get  him  the  office  for  which  he  was 
running.  Having  nothing  whatever  to  say  about  the 
conduct  of  the  campaign,  the  young  millionaire's  only 
responsibility  was  to  make  a  speech  whenever  his 
sponsors  saw  fit,  and  he  was  therefore  free  from  the 
anxiety  and  worry  to  which  Verney,  as  his  own  sponsor, 
was  subjected.  And  Vandewater  had  proved  himself 
not  at  all  bad  at  making  a  speech.  He  talked  easily, 
and  seemed  to  have  the  trick  of  amusing  his  audiences, 
and  greatest  of  all,  he  had  a  cast-iron  nerve  that  no 
contretemps,  however  disturbing,  could  shake.  Verney 
was  finding  him  a  hard  man  to  beat. 

And  this  state  of  affairs  had  so  troubled  Mr.  Vernor, 
whose  nephew's  success  was  as  dear  to  him  as  his  own, 
that  he  was  unable  to  forbear  speaking  of  it  to  Har- 
riet, and  he  poured  the  whole  story  of  Verney's  in- 
ability to  compete  with  Vandewater's  millions,  and  the 
sixteen-thousand-dollar  handicap  of  debt  under  which 
he  was  laboring,  into  her  sympathizing  ears. 

Harriet  was  shocked  to  hear  it.  It  was  difficult  for 
her  to  believe  that  any  one  could  be  in  such  desperate 
case  for  the  lack  of  so  commonplace  a  thing  as  money. 
She  had  had  it  to  spend  all  her  life,  and  she  found  it 
hard  to  imagine  what  it  would  be  like  not  to  have  it. 
Mr.  Vernor's  picture  of  Verney's  straits  made  her 
realize  it  for  the  first  time,  and  the  realization  wrung 
her  heart.  How  terrible  that  her  hero  should  run  the 
risk  of  losing  the  election  for  such  a  reason !  The  idea 

[275] 


The  Politician 

became  positive  torture  to  her,  and  the  night  following 
Mr.  Vernor's  call  she  found  herself  quite  unable  to  go  to 
sleep  as  usual. 

The  knowledge  that  her  friend,  that  Verney,  was  in 
such  trouble,  that  he  had  the  need  of  money  to  struggle 
against  to  bother  him  as  well  as  the  other  hazards  of 
the  campaign,  kept  her  awake.  The  picture  of  the 
Politician  loaded  down  with  care,  harassed  and  anxious 
and  pale  as  she  had  seen  him  once  on  that  afternoon  when 
they  compared  their  poems  on  "  Opportunity,"  would 
persist  in  appearing  before  her  mental  vision  and  pre- 
vented her  from  closing  her  eyes.  At  last  she  could  bear 
it  no  longer.  She  sprang  up,  lit  the  gas  and  throwing 
a  warm  quilted  robe  about  her,  went  to  her  desk.  If 
he  had  no  other  friend  to  help  him  out  in  this  emergency 
he  had  at  least  one.  Why  had  n't  she  thought  of  it 
before.  She  would  send  him  a  cheque  herself  that  very 
moment. 

It  was  only  one  o'clock.  Parker  should  post  it  that 
very  night,  so  that  Verney  would  get  it  the  first  thing 
in  the  morning  and  not  suffer  his  distress  of  mind  an 
instant  longer  than  was  necessary.  With  dark  hair 
loosely  tied  back  falling  over  one  silk-clad  shoulder  and 
small  fingers  travelling  swiftly  over  a  page  of  her 
cheque  book,  in  the  simplest  faith  that  as  it  was  sent 
so  would  it  be  received  —  a  simplicity  by  the  way  that 
always  went  hand  in  hand  with  her  most  generous  im- 
pulses, her  noblest  deeds  —  Harriet  filled  out  a  cheque 
for  twenty  thousand  dollars  to  the  order  of  James  Ver- 
nor  Ellis.  This  she  enclosed  in  an  addressed  envelope 

[276] 


Light 

with  her  visiting  card  upon  which  she  wrote  the  fol- 
lowing lines : 

"  Dear  friend,  accept  this  from  a  friend  to  use  as  you  see  fit, 
and  save  me  from  the  distress  of  mind  which  the  knowledge  of 
your  distress  of  mind  for  the  lack  of  that  of  which  I  have  so  much, 
is  causing  me." 

Few  words,  in  comparison  to  the  magnitude  of  the 
gift  accompanying  them;  but  the  greatest  deeds  are 
done  with  the  least  noise,  and  they  seemed  to  Harriet 
quite  adequate  to  convey  her  meaning.  Having  de- 
spatched Parker  grumbling  on  his  midnight  errand,  she 
went  back  to  bed,  satisfied  that  she  had  done  an  em- 
inently right  and  proper  thing  —  the  mere  duty  of  a 
mere  friend,  and  friendly  she  still  believed  her  interest 
in  the  young  man  to  be;  then  she  went  to  sleep,  happy 
in  the  thought  that  the  morning  would  find  Verney  free 
from  care. 

Ellis  was  lying  on  the  lounge  in  his  room  at  eleven 
o'clock  the  next  day  when  a  servant  brought  him  up  his 
letters.  He  had  but  lately  returned  from  a  tour  of 
speech-making  through  the  State  with  Oliver  Ordway; 
he  had  managed  to  exhaust  every  ounce  of  nervous 
energy  in  him  during  the  process,  and  had  received 
doctor's  orders  upon  his  return  home  not  to  leave  his 
room  or  do  any  work  of  any  kind  for  three  days,  if  he 
wished  to  repair  the  damage  done  and  prevent  further 
mischief. 

It  was  the  second  day  of  his  imprisonment,  for  as 
such  he  regarded  it,  and  the  depression  of  spirits  which 
always  accompanied  these  periods  of  forced  inaction 

[277] 


The  Politician 

had  complete  possession  of  him.  His  body  might  rest 
if  compelled  to,  but  his  restless,  eager  mind  would  not. 
To-day  it  ran  exclusively  upon  his  old  anxiety  —  where 
was  he  to  find  money  to  discharge  the  obligations  he 
had  already  incurred,  and  those  he  would  have  yet  to 
incur  if  he  was  to  make  any  kind  of  a  running  against 
Vandewater?  Where  could  he  turn  for  help?  to  whom 
could  he  possibly  go?  The  question  revolved  itself  over 
and  over  in  his  brain  until  he  thought  he  should  go 
mad. 

The  arrival  of  Wilson,  therefore,  with  his  mail,  was  a 
welcome  diversion. 

"  Thank  you,"  he  said,  throwing  away  the  cigarette 
the  doctor  had  forbidden  him  to  smoke  —  the  fifth  that 
day  —  and  reaching  out  his  hand  for  the  letters. 

"  Anything  I  can  do,  sir?  "  queried  the  servant,  with 
A  pitying  glance  at  the  languid  movements  of  the  young 
man,  his  dark-circled,  sleepless  eyes  and  colorless  face. 

"  Don't  think  so.  Unless  you  brought  me  a  whiskey 
and  soda !  "  He  smiled  mischievously.  He  knew,  and 
Wilson  knew,  that  whiskey  and  soda,  like  the  cigarettes, 
was  on  the  condemned  list. 

"  I  'm  afraid  not,  Mr.  Verney ;  you  know  the  doctor's 
orders,"  replied  the  man,  a  sympathetic  note  in  his  voice. 

Verney  smiled  wearily.  "  Oh,  yes,  I  know  1  Black 
beans  three  times  a  day  and  ennui  all  the  time  —  was  n't 
that  the  bill  of  fare  he  was  good  enough  to  prescribe?  " 

Wilson  was  "  afraid  so  "  and  withdrew. 

The  prisoner  turned  over  his  letters  listlessly.  The 
familiar  faces  of  three  bills  "  past  due  "  confronted  him, 

[278] 


Light 

a  letter  in  Harriet's  handwriting,  and  an  invitation. 
The  first  three  he  put  aside  unopened,  scanned  the  last 
hurriedly  and  threw  it  in  the  grate  —  it  was  an  invita- 
tion to  dinner  to  meet  a  popular  debutante  of  the  season 
—  and  then  turned  eagerly  to  the  letter  from  Harriet. 
He  could  n't  imagine  what  she  could  have  to  say  to 
him,  but  certainly  she  was  a  fine  little  girl ;  and  although 
it  seemed  circumstances  had  decreed  that  they  were  to 
see  no  more  of  each  other,  that  did  not  prevent  him  from 
taking  pleasure  in  hearing  from  her. 

It  did  not  take  him  a  moment  when  he  had  opened  the 
envelope  to  read  the  few  lines  inscribed  upon  Miss 
Rand's  visiting  card,  or  the  few  figures  inscribed  on  the 
cheque,  but  it  did  take  him  some  time  to  grasp  what  it 
all  meant.  When  he  did,  he  lay  very  still  with  his  arm 
across  his  eyes  and  the  cheque  between  his  fingers  for 
a  long,  long  time.  And  who  shall  say  what  temptation 
did  not  assail  him,  what  glorious  visions  of  obligations 
met,  enemies  defeated,  the  feel  of  that  slip  of  blue  paper 
did  not  conjure  up?  What  overpowering  impulse  to 
accept  what  the  gods  had  set  before  him,  asking  no  ques- 
tion for  conscience'  sake,  did  not  rise  within  him? 

Never  had  the  way  been  so  dark  before  him  as  at  that 
time.  That  sixteen  thousand  dollars  which  he  had  dis- 
covered it  was  necessary  for  him  to  make  that  year  in 
order  to  cover  his  liabilities  was  just  as  far  from  realiza- 
tion as  it  had  been  a  month  ago ;  his  campaign  expenses 
grew  heavier  every  day ;  and  he  had  been  able  to  spend 
practically  no  time  at  all  in  his  law  office  since  his  nom- 
ination. And  now,  he  had  suddenly  come  into  the 

[279] 


The  Politician 

possession  of  sufficient  funds  not  only  to  meet  his  in- 
debtedness, but  to  help  him  through  his  campaign  as 
well !  Here  he  held  it  in  his  very  hand,  a  free  gift  from 
a  friend  whose  wealth  was  so  great  that  the  loss  of  the 
amount  sent  would  never  be  felt,  a  gift  unsought  and 
unsolicited  by  him,  a  cheque  for  twenty  thousand 
dollars. 

He  rose  and  walked  slowly  to  his  desk  and  began  at 
once  to  write  a  letter.  He  wrote  slowly  and  with  ap- 
parent difficulty,  his  lip  held  tight  in  his  teeth  and  his 
brow  knit,  but  when  he  had  finished  and  had  signed  his 
name  to  what  he  had  written,  he  looked  up  and  nodded 
reassuringly  at  the  picture  of  Abraham  Lincoln  on  the 
wall. 

It  was  Harriet  who  opened  that  letter  (for  it  was  to 
her  he  had  been  writing),  in  the  beautiful  old  library 
in  Mrs.  Chittenden's  house,  her  favorite  sitting-room. 
It  said: 

"DEAR  HARRIET: 

"  I  am  returning  the  cheque  which  you  were  so  very  kind  as  to 
send  me  yesterday.  I  would  do  so  in  person  if  the  doctor  had  not 
ordered  me  to  stay  indoors  for  three  days  on  account  of  a  slight 
indisposition.  I  appreciate  to  the  utmost  the  divine  friendliness 
with  which  you  sent  it,  the  divine  compassion  and  generosity  which 
prompted  the  act,  and  I  pray  that  my  inability  to  accept  it  will  not 
wound  you;  but  Harrie  dear,  J  can't  take  it.  I  can't  explain 
why  very  well,  but  the  fact  is  it 's  impossible  for  a  man  to  accept 
obligations  of  that  kind  from  a  woman. 

"  Your  very  grateful  friend, 

M  JAMES  VERN  OR  ELLIS." 

When  Harriet  had  read  to  the  end  and  had  found 
enclosed  the  cheque  she  had  sent  off  so  happily,  so  joy- 

[280] 


Light 

ously,  her  disappointment  was  so  keen  that  the  tears 
filled  her  eyes.  She  tore  the  rejected  bank  order  in  two 
and,  bowing  her  head,  cried  and  cried.  She  had  wanted 
to  help  him,  but  she  had  not  been  allowed  to!  A  con- 
vention, a  mere  notion  of  honor,  a  false  pride,  had  kept 
him  from  accepting  it.  It  had  seemed  so  natural  to  help 
him,  such  a  simple  matter  just  to  send  the  money  and 
say  no  more  about  it,  she  could  n't  quite  understand  why 
she  had  not  been  able  to.  She  had  wanted  to  do  it 
more  than  anything  she  had  ever  wanted  to  do  before 
in  her  life,  but  this  great  joy  had  been  denied  her.  She 
had  so  much  money  she  could  n't  begin  to  use  it  all  or  a 
third  of  it,  but  she  could  not  give  any  of  it,  not  even 
so  small  a  sum  as  twenty  thousand  dollars  to  her  friend 
who  needed  it  so  much!  Her  sobs  redoubled  at  the 
thought. 

Why  did  she  cry?  Was  it  her  friendship  for  him 
that  made  her  feel  the  disappointment  so  cruelly?  Was 
this  emotion  that  was  shaking  her,  friendship?  The 
question  arrested  her  tears.  She  stood  on  a  sudden 
self -revealed  —  this  girl  who  had  never  been  in  love  be- 
fore and  had  not  for  that  reason  been  able  to  recognize 
it  when  it  came  to  her,  and  she  knew  on  the  instant  that 
it  was  love,  not  friendship,  this  feeling  that  had  over- 
whelmed her;  she  knew  that  it  was  love,  not  the  friend- 
liness with  which  he  had  credited  her,  that  had  prompted 
her  to  wish  to  render  Verney  assistance  —  that  had  made 
her  send  him  the  cheque. 

A  glow  that  had  its  inception  in  her  heart  mounted  to 
her  brain  and  suffused  her  consciousness.  She  bowed 

[281] 


The  Politician 

her  head  again,  but  this  time  shed  no  tears.     What 
happiness !     She  loved  him ! 

It  was  thus  she  was  found  by  a  maid  an  hour  later 
lying  full  length  in  a  Morris  chair,  her  cheek  pressed 
close  against  the  letter  that  had  so  lately  left  his  hand. 
Harriet  had  forgotten  that  it  was  receiving  day  and  she 
was  sorry  to  hear  that  Mrs.  William  Merivale  Gibbs  had 
been  shown  into  the  drawing-room  and  had  asked  to  see 
her.  She  would  a  little  rather  have  seen  no  one  on  tJiat 
day! 


[282] 


CHAPTER  XVII 

THE  FURY  OF   A   WOMAN   SCORNED 

IF  any  one  had  told  Harriet  Rand  when  she  arrived 
in   New   York   that   summer   of   the    Republican 
National  Convention,  that  any  act  in  the  life  of  a 
woman  whom  she  knew  so  little  as  she  did  Mrs.  Willie 
Gibbs  would  have  power  to  alter  the  current  of  her  own, 
she  would  have  scouted  the  idea  as  highly  improbable. 

Yet  such  was  the  case.  An  act  of  Mrs.  Gibbs  was 
potent  to  do  just  that  thing,  so  to  affect  Harriet  Rand 
that  the  heretofore  favored  and  propitious  course  of  her 
life  should  become  all  in  a  moment  troubled  and  tumultu- 
ous. And  this  act  was  the  young  married  woman's 
break  with  Verney  Ellis,  a  break  which  had  been  thrust 
upon  her  by  her  own  folly  in  opening  his  eyes  to  the 
true  character  of  her  professed  friendship  for  him. 
Although  entirely  the  result  of  her  own  error  in  judg- 
ment, Mrs.  Gibbs's  discomfiture  on  that  occasion  none 
the  less  resulted  in  a  feeling  of  bitter  anger  against  the 
cause  of  it;  which  in  turn  resulted  in  a  determination 
that  whatever  happened  he  should  not  be  allowed  to 
marry  Miss  Rand.  For  the  idea  that  this  was  Verney's 
unacknowledged  end  and  aim  had  taken  hold  of  that 
lady's  brain  with  all  the  pertinacity  of  a  delusion,  and 
her  determination  to  frustrate  it  was  the  only  balm  she 

[283] 


The  Politician 

had  for  the  intolerable  sting  of  wounded  self-love.  He 
must  be  punished  for  that  humiliation,  and  since  Harriet 
had  been  instrumental  in  bringing  it  about  she  did  not 
much  care  if  the  weight  of  the  punishment  fell  upon  her 
as  well.  Having  lost  Verney  herself,  she  had  made  up 
her  mind  that  Harriet  should  lose  him  too ;  and  that  this 
would  mean  a  certain  amount  of  unhappiness  for  the 
girl  she  did  not  doubt,  for  she  took  it  as  a  matter  of 
course  that  the  Chicago  heiress  was  as  much  in  love  with 
the  young  politician  as  she,  Mrs.  Gibbs,  supposed  him 
to  be  with  her. 

It  is  an  absurd  comparison  to  use  in  connection  with 
so  beautiful  a  woman  as  Mrs.  Willie  Gibbs,  to  say  that 
she  resembled  a  red  Indian  on  the  warpath  as  she  stood 
on  the  steps  of  Mrs.  Cumloch's  house  in  Forty-ninth 
Street,  the  afternoon  following  the  memorable  scene 
with  Verney;  yet  no  savage  in  war  paint  and  feathers 
on  a  still  hunt  for  a  scalp  could  have  had  less  pity  or 
more  hate  in  his  heart,  than  she  when  she  asked  to  see 
Miss  Rand. 

Harriet,  with  flushed  cheeks  and  bright  eyes  as  the 
only  signs  of  her  late  emotion,  received  her  with  great 
apparent  cordiality,  although  in  truth  the  girl  was  a 
little  surprised  to  receive  a  call  from  Mrs.  Gibbs,  their 
acquaintance  was  so  slight. 

"  How  do  you  do  ?  "  she  said ;  "  how  very  nice  of  you 
to  come ! "  And  she  explained  how  sorry  she  was  her 
aunt  was  not  in. 

Mrs.  Gibbs  acquiesced  politely  in  this  regret,  although 
[284] 


A  Woman  Scorned 

she  reflected  privately  that  the  circumstance  was  a  fortu- 
nate one.  Mrs.  Cumloch  's  presence  would  effectually 
have  prevented  her  from  carrying  out  the  plan  she  had 
in  mind. 

The  conversation  was  at  first  rather  forced  and  de- 
voted chiefly  to  the  discussion  of  the  advantages  of  life 
in  an  apartment,  and  the  fall  styles  in  clothes ;  but  it 
leaped  presently,  for  neither  Harriet  nor  Mrs.  Gibbs 
was  stupid,  from  this  plane  of  commonplace  to  the  rarer 
heights  of  literature  and  art,  and  they  were  soon  dis- 
cussing everything  from  Ibsen  to  Gibson,  Harriet  with 
the  accuracy  of  the  thoroughly  well-informed,  and  her 
caller  with  the  random  brilliancy  of  a  quick  but  ill- 
trained  mind.  The  young  girl  thought  the  older  woman 
had  never  seemed  so  attractive,  and  even  went  so  far  as  to 
regret  that  she  had  called  her,  even  in  her  mind, 
"  fast."  Not  a  single  remark  that  could  be  construed 
as  "  broad  "  did  Cora  Gibbs  utter  that  afternoon ;  only 
the  most  charming  things,  clever,  friendly,  and  joyous. 
Harriet  became  more  and  more  entranced,  yielding  up 
her  guileless,  sincere  heart  to  this  captivating  witch  in 
utter  ignorance  of  the  jealous  purpose  behind  this 
seeming  graciousness  that  was  rendering  the  witch's 
heart,  though  usually  mild  and  merciful  enough,  as 
hard  as  flint. 

Mrs.  Gibbs  beheld  her  hostess's  increasing  favor  with 
satisfaction.  Step  number  one  was  accomplished.  She 
had  gained  her  victim's  confidence.  The  next  one  was 
more  difficult,  perhaps,  for  the  conversation  had  to  be 

[285] 


The  Politician 

brought  around  to  Verney  Ellis.  But  this  too  slie 
achieved  with  the  same  consummate  skill.  Harriet  was 
made  to  mention  his  name  herself. 

"  Was  n't  it  splendid  about  Oliver  Ordway's  getting 
the  nomination  for  Governor?  "  asked  Mrs.  Gibbs  in 
a  carefully  casual  tone,  when  the  need  for  a  new  topic 
of  conversation  made  itself  felt  for  a  moment ;  "  Agnes 
was  so  delighted !  " 

"  Yes,  and  about  Vernor  Ellis  getting  the  nomination 
for  Attorney-general,  too,"  said  Harriet  quickly,  anxious 
that  her  hero  should  get  his  due  of  praise. 

"Oh,  decidedly!  I  think  so  too.  I  was  just  as 
pleased  and  excited  about  that, —  only  of  course  I  know 
Agnes  Ordway  so  well  and  I  was  specially  pleased  that 
she  was  n't  disappointed,"  replied  the  other.  "  Verney 
Ellis,  you  know  "  —  she  smiled  —  "  is  a  great  admira- 
tion of  mine !  I  'm  years  older  than  he  is  "  —  crafty 
admission,  —  "  but  I  'm  not  ashamed  to  admit  I  think 
he  's  the  very  brightest,  most  charming  boy  I  know." 

This  frank  avowal  disarmed  Harriet,  and  any  doubts 
she  might  have  had  as  to  the  nature  of  Mrs.  Gibbs's 
admiration  for  Verney  were  swallowed  up  in  the  con- 
viction that  it  had  never  been  anything  but  friendly 
and  impersonal.  She  felt  now  that  she  could  speak 
of  Verney  to  Mrs.  Gibbs  without  any  feeling  of  self- 
consciousness.  And  it  was  a  relief.  She  loved  to  talk 
about  the  Politician,  and  Mrs.  Gibbs  seemed  to  know 
him  so  well. 

"  He  is  bright  and  charming,"  she  said  sweetly,  "  and 
most  awfully  clever!  Don't  you  think  so?" 

[286] 


A  Woman  Scorned 

"  He  's  brilliant.  I  've  known  him  since  childhood, 
and  his  mentality  has  always  impressed  me  with  its 
superiority." 

"  He  said  you  were  one  of  his  oldest  friends,"  remarked 
the  girl,  looking  up  innocently. 

Mrs.  Gibbs  winced.  It  was  all  very  well  to  admit 
her  years  herself,  but  to  hear  it  from  the  lips  of  such 
fresh,  dazzling  youth  was  unpleasant.  However,  things 
like  this  she  knew  had  to  be  with  every  famous  victory ; 
so  she  swallowed  the  pill  bravely  and  returned  to  the 
attack.  "  Dear  me,  yes !  "  she  agreed ;  "  I  've  looked 
after  him  and  been  an  elder  sister  to  him  ever  since 
I  can  remember." 

"  How  well  you  must  know  him !  "  enviously. 

Mrs.  Gibbs  smiled  and  with  such  apparent  kindness 
that  the  triumphant  nature  of  the  smile  was  quite  dis- 
guised from  Harriet.  Another  step  had  been  accom- 
plished. Miss  Rand  had  been  brought  to  realize  that 
Mrs.  Gibbs's  acquaintance  with  Verney  was  of  long  stand- 
ing and  her  knowledge  of  him  likely  to  be  founded  on 
fact,  and  was  therefore  properly  prepared  to  take  as 
law  any  hint  Mrs.  Gibbs  might  see  fit  to  drop  regarding 
any  principle  or  theory  the  young  man  might  entertain. 
Say,  for  instance,  his  views  on  the  incompatibility  of 
marriage  with  the  pursuance  of  a  political  career.  And 
this  of  course  was  necessary.  Her  authority  must  be 
established,  for  like  the  most  successful  of  diplomats, 
she  was  relying  upon  the  truth  for  the  successful 
execution  of  her  design,  and  what  she  was  going 
to  tell  Harriet  that  afternoon  was  nothing  if  not  true. 

[287] 


The  Politician 

Her  only  care  was  to  make  Harriet  appreciate  that 
fact. 

"  I  shall  be  very  much  interested  in  the  State  elec- 
tions this  year,"  Mrs.  Gibbs  said  next,  "  knowing  as  I 
do  three  of  the  candidates  for  office." 

"  Three?  "  enquired  Harriet. 

"  Yes.  Two  on  the  Republican  ticket  and  one  on 
the  Democratic,  Verney,  Oliver  Ordway,  and  Billy  Van- 
dewater." 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Vandewater !     I  forgot  about  him." 

"  He  became  the  Democratic  candidate  for  Attor- 
ney-general —  at  the  last  moment,  you  know.  Really, 
it  was  rather  strange, —  the  whole  business.  I  never 
knew  him  to  be  interested  in  politics  before,  and  his 
resolution  to  run  was  so  sudden."  She  looked  keenly 
at  Harriet  as  she  spoke.  Some  hint  of  the  rivalry 
between  the  two  men  for  Miss  Rand's  favor  had  gotten 
out  and  reached  her  ears,  and  she  wondered  if  it  had 
had  anything  to  do  with  Vandewater's  hasty  leap  into 
the  political  ring  in  direct  opposition  to  Verney. 

It  had,  of  course,  had  everything  to  do  with  it,  but 
Harriet's  utter  unconsciousness  of  that  fact  enabled  her 
to  put  Mrs.  Gibbs's  conclusions  on  the  subject  to  con- 
fusion. 

"  Was  it  sudden  ?  "  she  said,  innocently.  "  I  did  n't 
know.  But  then  I  don't  know  a  great  deal  about  Mr. 
Vandewater  anyway."  The  indifference  of  her  tone 
seemed  to  say  she  did  n't  care  to,  either. 

"  You  're  not  betting  on  him,  then  ?  "  said  the  other, 
tentatively,  anxious  to  draw  Harriet  out  on  the  sub- 

[288] 


A  Woman  Scorned 

ject  of  her  regard  for  the  contesting  candidates  for 
Attorney-general  as  far  as  possible. 

"  No,  are  you  ?  "  —  in  surprise.  "  Surely  he  has  n't 
the  character  or  integrity  that  Mr.  Ellis  has!  Little 
as  I  know  him,  I  seem  to  feel  that ! "  Her  tone  and 
face  were  glowing. 

Mrs.  Gibbs  was  quite  satisfied.  It  was  just  as  she 
thought.  The  girl  was  heels  over  head  in  love  with 
Verney.  Well,  she  shouldn't  have  him,  just  the  same! 
The  registry  of  this  primitive,  elementary  vow  was 
marked  by  a  hard  line  about  its  author's  beautiful 
mouth. 

"  No,  he  has  n't,"  agreed  the  older  woman.  "  He  's- 
bright  in  his  way,  Billy,  but  you  're  quite  right ;  he 
has  n't  the  character  Verney  has." 

"  I  can't  imagine  his  not  winning.  I  can't  imagine 
their  not  wanting  him !  "  said  Harriet. 

"Who?  Verney?  No.  He  '11  win.  He 's  that  kind 
of  man." 

Harriet's  Madonna  eyes  loomed  big  and  black  at  her 
caller.  "  And  it  won't  be  the  last  time  he  '11  win,  either," 
she  said.  "  I  believe  "  —  her  voice  rang  a  little  — 
"  that  the  country  has  no  better  single  hope  of  political 
reform  —  of  obtaining  better  government  —  than  its 
hope  in  him." 

Mrs.  Gibbs  stared.  Here  was  enthusiasm  with  a 
vengeance.  How  like  Verney  that  speech  sounded !  He 
was  always  talking  about  "  the  country ! "  The  girl 
was  certainly  in  love  with  him !  Why,  she  was  even 
taking  all  his  theories  and  ambitions  about  politics  seri- 
19  [  289  ] 


The  Politician 

ously !  Though  she  was  ever  so  fond  of  the  young 
man  herself,  she  knew  she  never  had  been  able  to  be 
interested  in  his  work.  If  it  had  not  aroused  a  fury 
of  jealous  rage  and  envy  in  her,  Harriet's  artless 
revelation  of  the  extravagant  nature  of  her  infatuation 
for  Ellis  would  have  made  Mrs.  Gibbs  feel  inclined  to 
laugh. 

She  recovered  her  usual  equable  poise  very  quickly, 
however.  It  would  not  do  to  let  the  girl  see  that  she 
resented  her  intimate  possessive  interest  in  a  man  whom 
she  had  so  long  regarded  as  her  own  especial  property. 
That  the  property  in  question  had  very  lately  and 
with  a  definiteness  that  was  unmistakable,  broken  from 
her  hold,  did  not  make  her  resentment  less,  but  rather 
increased  it.  She  would  have  given  worlds  for  the  right 
to  resent,  and  the  consciousness  that  she  had  it  no 
longer  lent  an  extra  smart  to  her  wound. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  she  agreed  quickly,  "  he  '11  go  far,  no 
doubt ! "  She  meant,  as  Harriet  had  not,  in  the  way 
of  holding  office.  "  That  is,  if  he  's  able  to  keep  his 
resolution."  This  with  deliberate  carefulness. 

"  Has  he  one?  Any  specific  one?  "  asked  Harriet  in- 
differently. "  I  hr. J  n't  heard  of  it." 

Her  indifference  was  very  near  to  foiling  Mrs.  Gibbs's 
purpose.  The  latter  saw  at  once  that  it  would  be 
necessary  to  pique  her  hostess's  curiosity  in  order  to 
interest  her  in  what  she  had  to  say,  what  must  be  said, 
in  fact,  in  order  to  attain  her  ends. 

"  I  suppose  not,"  she  said.  "  He  would  n't  be  likely 
to  tell  it  to  you." 

[290] 


A  Woman  Scorned 

Harriet  was  silent  a  moment.  She  could  n't  help 
wanting  to  know  what  it  could  be  that  Verney  would-n't 
be  likely  to  speak  about  to  her,  but  she  did  n't  want 
to  ask  Mrs.  Gibbs.  She  felt  somehow,  instinctively, 
though  for  what  reason  she  could  n't  imagine,  that 
it  would  gratify  that  lady  to  have  her  ask.  But  her 
curiosity  was  too  much  for  her. 

"  What  is  his  resolution  ?  "  she  asked. 

Mrs.  Gibbs's  heart  leaped  with  joy. 

"  He  's  made  up  his  mind  not  to  marry,"  she  said 
quietly.  "  He  thinks  —  and  I  agree  with  him  —  that 
he  can't  marry  and  go  in  for  public  life,  too.  That 
he  would  n't  have  time  to  do  both.  On  the  theory  that 
a  good  artist  does  n't  make  a  good  husband,  you  know." 

Harriet  showed  no  sign  that  this  intelligence  was  at 
all  disturbing. 

"  And  why  would  n't  he  be  likely  to  tell  me  that  ? 
He  seems  to  have  told  you." 

"  Oh,  my  dear !  "  —  with  a  deprecating  laugh, — 
"  don't  you  see?  I 'm  a  married  woman  and  an  old 
friend;  of  course  he  confides  in  me.  And  although  he 
might  confide  in  you  on  almost  any  subject,  he  could  n't 
about  that !  Don't  you  know  him  well  enough  to  realize 
that  he  could  n't  tell  that  to  a  young  unmarried  girl, 
just  because  she  was  young  and  unmarried?  He'd 
think,  you  know,  that  people  would  be  justified  in  call- 
ing him  a  conceited  ass  if  he  went  around  warning  his 
girl  friends  that  he  was  n't  a  marrying  man." 

This  sounded  very  reasonable  to  Harriet  —  very  like 
the  truth. 

[291] 


The  Politician 

"Yes,  I  do  see  that,"  said  she.  "That  would  be 
rather  silly." 

Mrs.  Gibbs  nodded.  "  And  then  of  course  he  's  had 
the  idea  so  long  now  that  he 's  not  going  to  marry, 
it  would  n't  occur  to  him  to  talk  about  it.  He  's  grown 
used  to  it." 

"  I  suppose  it 's  a  real  necessity,  his  resolution  ?  " 
said  Harriet,  in  a  rather  puzzled  voice.  She  had  so 
little  suspected  the  existence  of  an  incontrovertible  prej- 
udice against  love  on  the  part  of  the  Politician,  it  was 
so  difficult  to  reconcile  it  with  her  knowledge  of  him 
so  far,  that  she  was  slow  in  grasping  the  significance 
of  Mrs.  Gibbs's  revelation  and  in  perceiving  how  it 
might  bear  upon  her  discovery  of  the  real  state  of  her 
own  feelings  toward  the  young  man. 

"  Beyond  a  doubt,"  returned  Cora  Gibbs.  "  If  you 
knew  what  a  struggle  it  was  for  him  as  it  is  to  find  time 
to  do  all  he  undertakes,  to  keep  up  with  his  law  prac- 
tice and  his  political  work,  too,  you  'd  understand  at 
once  the  impossibility  of  his  undertaking  domestic  cares. 
Verney  married  would  be  Verney  without  a  career.  He 
simply  could  n't  do  it !  " 

"  Not  even  if  his  wife  had  money  ?  "  Harriet's  tone 
was  a  shade  combative.  She  was  beginning  to  realize 
that  Mrs.  Gibbs  had  some  motive  not  apparent  on  the 
surface,  for  discussing  at  such  length  Verney's  ideas 
on  the  subject  of  matrimony,  and  that  it  was  not  an 
altogether  friendly  one.  Her  anxiety  to  inform  Harriet 
upon  every  detail  was  rather  too  manifest. 

Mrs.  Gibbs  looked  up  surprised.  She  had  not  ex- 
[292] 


»    A  Woman  Scorned 

pected  argument  from  her  victim  but  only  acquiescence 
in  her  fiat.  The  emergency  demanded  a  decisive  blow. 

"  Oh,  my  dear ! "  she  expostulated,  "  if  he  had  made 
such  a  resolution  —  that  he  would  n't  marry,  because  he 
couldn't  do  that  and  remain  in  politics  too,  without 
being  unfair  to  his  wife, —  could  he,  do  you  think,  let 
the  possibility  that  his  wife  might  have  money  make 
any  difference?  " 

Harriet  did  not  answer.  The  logic  of  Mrs.  Gibbs's 
question  was  indisputable.  She  knew  Verney  too  well 
to  fail  to  see  that  as  a  man  of  honor  he  could  not 
let  that  possibility  make  any  difference. 

"  He  's  a  man  of  strong  will,"  continued  the  other ; 
"  a  resolution  once  made,  he  never  alters  it." 

This  statement  she  made  because  she  wanted  Harriet 
to  believe  it,  not  because  she  believed  it  herself.  For 
of  course  the  truth  was  that  she  did  not  have  any  such 
confidence  in  Verney's  will,  but  rather  feared  that  if 
sufficient  temptation  presented  itself  he  would  break  his 
resolution.  Was  n't  it  that  very  fear,  that  he  was  at 
that  time  on  the  point  of  breaking  it,  that  had  brought 
her  to  see  Harriet? 

Miss  Rand  sighed.     She  was  almost  beaten. 

"  What  if  he  fell  in  love?  "  she  asked,  but  in  a  tone 
of  wavering  confidence.  A  pain  that  had  made  itself 
felt,  although  faintly,  with  the  first  word  Mrs.  Gibbs 
spoke  in  regard  to  Verney's  belief  that  he  must  of 
necessity  remain  a  bachelor,  was  growing  big  and  bigger 
in  her  heart. 

"  He  would  never  fall  in  love,"  replied  her  enemy,. 
[293] 


The  Politician 

swooping  eagerly  upon  this  chance  to  end  the  combat 
by  a  mortal  thrust.  "  He 's  been  too  long  armored 
by  his  conviction  that  he  must  remain  unmarried,  to 
run  the  risk  of  making  himself  unhappy  in  that  way. 
He  may  make  love  "  —  she  glanced  with  half  concealed 
triumph  at  the  still  face  of  the  girl,  and  herein  lay 
the  real  sting  of  her  whole  discourse, —  "  I  Jve  no  doubt 
he  does,  but  he  does  n't  mean  a  word  of  it.  He  's  the 
most  conscienceless  flirt  in  the  world,  absolutely  insin- 
cere and  irresponsible.  You  see  from  the  very  nature 
of  things  he  can't  very  well  be  anything  else.  And 
you  'd  be  surprised,  Miss  Rand,  you  would  indeed,  if 
you  knew  how  easy  the  women  make  it  for  him." 

She  smiled,  and  Harriet  instantly  became  convinced, 
as  Mrs.  Gibbs  had  meant  her  to,  that  she  was  one  of 
the  women  who  had  "  made  it  easy  "  for  Verney.  It 
came  suddenly  home  to  her  as  she  sat  and  watched  her 
caller  smile,  that  if  it  was  true  that  Verney  did  not 
intend  to  marry,  conversely  it  must  be  true  that  any 
indication  of  interest  from  him,  no  matter  how  warm 
it  might  seem  to  be,  must  mean  nothing.  Friendship 
it  might  mean,  of  course,  but  friendship  to  her  was 
nothing.  When  the  heart  asks  for  love  no  other  senti- 
ment will  answer. 

As  this  terrible  thought  found  place  in  Harriet's 
consciousness  her  mind  went  rapidly  back  and  reviewed, 
each  with  a  separate  pang,  the  various  occasions  upon 
which  Verney  by  word  or  look  or  speech  had  endeared 
himself  to  her,  and  which  she  had  thought  proved  she 
was  dear  to  him.  Only  that  day  she  had  come  to  the 

[  294  ]  " 


A  Woman  Scorned 

conclusion  that  her  feeling  for  him  was  love,  but  the 
complementary  feeling  that  he  cared  a  little  for  her, 
had  been  present,  too,  though  unconsciously.  The  possi- 
bility which  she  felt  she  was  justified  in  considering,  that 
he  might  care  at  some  future  time,  was  present  in  her 
mind  at  the  beginning  of  her  talk  with  Mrs.  Gibbs, 
but  of  this  possibility  that  lady's  remarks  on  the  sub- 
ject of  Verney  and  his  principles  had  robbed  her. 

She  leaned  back  suddenly  in  her  chair.  As  she 
thought  it  over,  it  all  seemed  only  too  likely  to  be  true. 
In  the  light  of  Mrs.  Gibbs's  revelations  his  hitherto 
inexplicable  conduct  toward  her  ever  since  the  horse- 
show,  his  apparent  devotion  to  her  at  one  time  and 
his  indifference  at  another,  was  explained.  He  had 
never  been  serious  from  the  start,  why  then  should  he  be 
consistent?  No,  she  had  been  mistaken.  She  had 
misinterpreted  his  interest  in  her.  He  had  never  meant 
anything  at  all  either  by  speech  or  look  or  act,  not 
even  by  written  word!  A  voiceless  sob  arose  in  her 
at  that  thought,  as  she  remembered  one  sentence  in  the 
note  which  she  had  just  received  from  him  which  seemed 
proof  of  the  existence  of  a  tenderness  for  her:  where 
he  said,  "  But,  Harrie  dear,  I  can't  take  it !  "  She  was 
so  happy  when  she  read  it ;  now  she  knew  she  must  never 
think  of  it  again,  that  it  meant  nothing,  that  it  was 
only  his  way  of  talking  and  writing  to  women,  that  it 
was  all  a  mistake,  that  she  had  deceived  herself! 

The  conviction  came  as  a  revelation  to  her,  in  spite 
of  the  fact  that  she  had  always  been  aware  from  the 
first  moment  of  meeting  him,  that  Verney  was  fond  of 

[295] 


The  Politician 

and  used  to  feminine  society,  and  she  turned  very  pale. 
It  is  difficult  for  even  the  least  egotistical  of  us  to 
escape  the  fallacy  of  supposing  that  we  are  ourselves 
exceptions  to  any  rule;  and  the  two  discoveries  Harriet 
had  made  within  twenty-four  hours  —  that  her  feeling 
for  Verney  was  love,  and  that  his  for  her  had  never 
been  and  never  could  be  anything  but  friendship  —  were 
on  that  account  none  the  less  of  a  shock  to  her.  Her 
paleness  frightened  Mrs.  Gibbs.  It  left  no  doubt  in 
her  mind  that  her  work  was  done ;  that  Harriet  had  been 
made  to  see  that  the  Politician  was  not  for  her,  that 
she  must  turn  her  thoughts  from  him ;  and  for  a  com- 
plete estrangement  between  the  two  she  relied  upon  the 
girl's  pride,  which  she  thought  would  cause  her  to  avoid 
Verney  and  effectually  prevent  explanations.  At  the 
same  time  her  jealousy  had  made  her  more  vindictive 
than  she  at  first  intended  to  be,  and  the  sight  of  the 
girl's  suffering  inspired  a  tardy  and  faint  remorse. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  she  said,  leaning  anxiously  toward 
Harriet.  "  What  is  the  matter?  " 

"  Nothing,"  was  the  courageous  reply.     "  Nothing." 

44  But  you  are  so  pale.  Shall  I  get  you  some  water?  " 
She  rose  and  bent  over  the  nerveless  form  of  her  young 
hostess. 

Harriet,  who  had  not  until  then  been  conscious  of 
any  feeling  except  despair,  was  now  aware  of  another 
feeling  —  of  a  flood  of  burning  indignation  and  resent- 
ment against  the  speaker.  In  spite  of  the  seeming 
solicitude  manifested  in  the  beautiful  face  bending  over 
her,  she  saw  in  it  nothing  but  enmity  toward  her,  and 

[296] 


A  Woman  Scorned 

in  the  brilliant  hazel  eyes  nothing  but  triumph.  Her 
unsuspicious,  trusting  nature  was  at  last  aroused  to  the 
true  character  of  her  caller,  and  she  saw  that  this  appar- 
ently casual  visit  had  been  made  with  a  purpose,  to 
destroy  her  happiness  in  Verney.  She  threw  out  one 
hand,  as  if  to  ward  off  and  repudiate  the  other's  offer 
of  assistance,  and  sprang  to  her  feet.  The  fine  rich 
color  flooded  her  white  face,  and  her  voice  trembled, 
yet  she  spoke  deliberately  and  with  dignity. 

"  I  don't  believe  a  word  you  tell  me  about  Mr.  Ellis !  " 
she  said.  "  I  consider  you  incapable  of  speaking  the 
truth ! "  And  then  in  a  low,  heartrending  tone  that 
proved  this  spirited  defiance  the  last  rally  of  pride,  that 
proved  she  feared  that  her  visitor  spoke  the  truth, 
"  What  have  I  ever  done  to  you  that  you  should  hurt 
me  so  ?  " 

Conscience-stricken  and  without  a  word  —  for  she 
was,  after  all,  a  woman  and  possessed  in  a  measure  of 
the  softer  attributes  of  womanhood, —  Mrs.  Gibbs  hur- 
ried from  the  room  and  let  herself  out  of  the  house 
without  waiting  for  maid  or  butler  to  perform  that 
office  for  her,  and  immersed  herself  in  her  carriage. 
One  might  have  thought  from  her  haste  that  she  was 
afraid  the  bloody  scalp  dangling  at  her  belt  would  be 
observed. 


[297] 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

WHAT  MONEY  CANNOT  BUY 

ON  the  evening  of  the  same  day  that  had  already 
proved  so  momentous  for  Harriet  and  was  to 
prove  still  more  so  before  it  was  done,  she 
received  a  call  from  Verney  Ellis,  the  very  person  she 
was  most  anxious  to  see,  since  her  whole  hope  was 
now  centred  in  the  possibility  that  Mrs.  Gibbs  was 
mistaken,  and  his  "  resolution  "  and  consequent  insin- 
cerity a  figment  of  her  fancy.  For  although  the  beau- 
tiful Mrs.  Willie  had  succeeded  in  hurting  Harriet  by 
informing  her  of  Verney's  conviction  that  he  could  not 
marry,  and  the  light  treatment  of  herself  on  his  part 
that  it  implied,  she  had  not  succeeded  in  reducing  her 
to  that  state  of  hopeless  broken-heartedness  which  would 
have  led  her  to  give  Verney  up  without  further  words 
and  at  once  to  cut  short  her  stay  in  New  York. 

Harriet's  acceptance  of  Mrs.  Gibbs's  statement  of 
the  case  was  not  so  unquestioned  as  that,  although  it 
had  seemed  so  in  the  first  moment  of  suffering.  Her 
faith  in  Verney  was  stronger  than  Mrs.  Gibbs  had  any 
idea  of;  and  upon  thinking  it  all  over  when  her  enemy 
had  gone,  she  was  more  than  half  inclined  to  believe 
that  there  was  something  wrong  somewhere,  that  there 
was  some  aspect  of  the  situation  which  Mrs.  Gibbs  had 

[298] 


What  Money  Cannot  Buy 

overlooked  or  had  not  taken  into  account,  and  that  she 
could  learn  what  it  was  from  Verney.  In  holding  this 
opinion  she  was  very  wise.  The  element  that  the  young 
married  woman  had  overlooked  was  the  existence  of  a 
very  real  attachment  on  the  young  man's  part  for 
Harriet ;  and  his  struggle,  in  the  interests  of  his  chosen 
work,  to  prevent  this  from  becoming  a  warmer  feeling, 
accounted  far  more  satisfactorily  and  justly  for  the 
apparent  insincerity  of  his  conduct  toward  Harriet  than 
did  Mrs.  Gibbs's  charge  that  he  was  a  hardened  and 
heartless  flirt. 

The  term  of  imprisonment  which  the  doctor  had  im- 
posed upon  him  had  not  altogether  passed,  but  his 
restless  soul  had  not  been  able  to  abide  in  patience  the 
last  minute  of  it ;  and  on  this,  the  evening  of  the  third 
day,  he  had  dressed,  gone  down  to  dinner,  and  left  the 
house  shortly  afterwards  to  go  and  call  upon  Harriet. 
It  was  in  direct  defiance,  of  course,  of  his  resolution  to 
see  no  more  of  her;  but  he  thought  that  by  saying 
to  her  now  what  he  had  on  his  mind  to  say,  there  would 
be  less  probability  of  his  breaking  it  again. 

The  incident  of  the  twenty-thousand-dollar  cheque 
worried  him  considerably.  He  was  very  glad  his  illness 
had  been  sufficient  reason  for  his  returning  it  by  letter, 
for  he  hated  the  idea  of  a  personal  transaction  of  that 
ungracious  nature  between  them ;  but  thank  her  in  per- 
son also  he  must.  It  was  such  an  astonishing  thing 
for  her  to  do,  such  an  undreamed-of  act  of  friendship, 
generous  beyond  belief!  Really,  it  seemed  to  prove 
such  a  devotion  to  him  that,  although  he  knew  Harriet's 

[299] 


The  Politician 

interest  in  politics  by  this  time  had  become  almost  a 
hobby,  it  was  difficult  to  account  for  it  altogether  in 
that  way.  He  began,  in  short,  to  be  a  little  puzzled 
to  account  for  it,  unless  in  a  way  that  made  his  face 
grave  with  anxiety  and  his  teeth  close  nervously  on  his 
lower  lip.  He  could  not,  he  must  not  think  of  that! 
Yet  the  thought  would  come  to  him,  and  it  made  him 
tremble.  What  horrible  thing  had  he  done  now?  Had 
disastrous  consequences,  unsuspected  by  him,  resulted 
from  this  sweet,  enthralling  friendship  with  this  sweet, 
enthralling  girl?  He  devoutly  hoped  not,  but  it  was 
with  a  good  deal  of  apprehension  that  he  found  him- 
self in  the  library  waiting  for  Harriet  to  come  down, 
and  with  the  resolute  determination  that  some  time  dur- 
ing the  evening,  in  an  impersonal,  general  sort  of  way, 
of  course,  if  he  had  the  chance,  he  would  explain  to 
his  friend  the  position  he  was  in  and  the  exact  state 
of  the  case;  he  would  show  how  his  political  ambitions 
affected  the  question  of  his  marrying  and  of  his  resolu- 
tion in  that  regard.  If  the  slightest  germ  of  an  idea 
of  the  kind  he  dreaded  had  begun  to  take  possession  of 
her,  it  would  be  the  only  fair  thing  to  do  to  show  her 
its  impossible  nature. 

Harriet's  cordial,  frank  manner  when  she  did  come 
down  relieved  his  mind  not  a  little.  Before  her  friendly 
smile  his  misgivings  utterly  vanished.  He  began  even 
to  feel  ashamed  to  think  he  had  given  way  to  them 
and  to  accuse  himself  mentally  of  deserving  the  epithet 
of  "  conceited  ass  "  he  had  been  at  such  pains  to  avoid 
so  long,  and  of  meriting  which  he  had  expressed  such 

[3001 


What  Money  Cannot  Buy 

abhorrence  to  Mrs.  Gibbs.  Her  matter-of-fact  treat- 
ment of  the  episode^  of  the  cheque,  the  unembarrassed 
calm  with  which  she  told  him  that  she  had  hoped  to  be 
able  to  help  him.  in  that  way  but  that  she  saw  now  it  was 
impossible,  that  it  was  nothing  at  all  for  him  to  be 
grateful  about,  and  she  'd  rather  he  would  forget  the 
whole  incident,  and  the  fact  that  she  then  dismissed  the 
subject,  served  to  convince  him  further  that  his  appre- 
hensions had  been  unfounded. 

But  even  while  he  became  certain  that  he  had  been 
wrong  in  attributing  to  her  a  warmer  feeling  for  him 
than  friendship,  he  realized  that  the  danger  of  his 
developing  a  warmer  feeling  for  her  was  still  present; 
accordingly,  his  determination  to  keep  himself  in  the 
future  beyond  the  reach  of  it  became  firmer  than  ever. 
She  had  never  seemed  so  fascinating  to  him  as  she  did 
that  evening.  An  unusual  and  beautiful  color  glowed 
in  her  cheeks,  and  the  luminous  blackness  of  her  eyes 
was  a  miracle  to  behold.  And  then  her  thought  for 
him,  her  superb  offer  of  assistance  on  the  instant  that 
she  heard  of  his  need,  had  touched  him  too  nearly,  was 
too  recent  not  to  have  left  him  very  tender  toward  her. 
He  didn't  know  of  any  other  friend  he  had,  man  or 
woman,  that  would  have  done  as  much  for  him. 

"  That 's  a  wonderful  frock,"  he  said,  the  first  words 
of  greeting  over  and  the  subject  of  the  cheque  disposed 
of  in  the  matter-of-fact  manner  that  was  so  satisfactory 
to  him.  "  Where  this  side  of  heaven  did  you  find  any- 
thing so  entrancing?  " 

"  Aunt  Lydia  found  it  for  me,"  said  Harriet ;  "  but 
[301] 


The  Politician 

I  'm  glad  you  like  it,  I  like  it  so  much  myself !  "  She 
laughed  happily.  It  did  n't  matter  to  her  what  they 
said  or  whether  they  talked  at  all,  it  was  just  enough 
to  look  at  him.  It  was  so  infinitely  blessed  to  be  with 
him  again,  to  have  him  sitting  right  by  her  there  on  the 
divan !  No  detail  of  him,  neither  his  smooth  dark  head 
with  the  hair  brushed  well  away  from  the  parting,  nor 
the  thin  curve  of  his  lips,  nor  t}ie  clear  brilliance  of  his 
blue  eyes  under  their  straight,  heavy  brows,  escaped  her 
—  except  for  the  absence  of  color  in  his  face  she  would 
never  have  known  he  had  been  ill. 

The  peace  of  the  moment  was  indescribably  sweet  to 
her;  how  could  she,  she  wondered,  disturb  it  by  setting 
herself  to  the  task  of  finding  out  if  what  Mrs.  Gibbs 
had  told  her  about  him  that  afternoon  was  true;  if 
he  had  any  such  adamantine  prejudice  against  the  tender 
passion  as  that  lady  had  declared  he  had ;  and  if  he  was 
indeed  the  cold-blooded  incarnation  of  insincerity  he 
had  been  declared  to  be.  She  would  not  do  it.  She 
must  know,  of  course,  how  it  was  with  him  sooner  or 
later,  and  she  intended  to  find  out  that  evening  before 
he  left,  but  not  yet.  Not  just  that  minute! 

"  I  hope  you  are  feeling  quite  well  again?  "  she  said. 
"  I  was  alarmed  when  you  said  in  your  note  that  the 
doctor  had  forbidden  you  to  go  out  for  three  days ! " 

"  Oh,  he  always  does  that,"  said  Ellis ;  "  if  I  am 
ever  foolish  enough  to  admit  I  don't  feel  up  to  the 
mark  he  comes  down  on  me  with  a  three-days'  verdict. 
Next  time  I  won't  tell  him !  "  He  smiled. 

[302] 


What  Money  Cannot  Buy 

"  This  campaign  has  been  very  hard  on  you,"  she 
said. 

"  Yes.  Night  has  been  like  day  to  me,  I  've  had  so 
much  to  do." 

"  And  how  are  things  going?  "  She  leaned  toward 
him  anxiously.  She  feared  from  what  Mr.  Vernor  had 
told  her  that  they  were  going  far  from  well. 

Verney's  face  grew  very  grave. 

"  I  rather  think  the  Democrats  will  elect  an  Attorney- 
general  this  year,"  he  said. 

She  gave  an  exclamation  of  dismay.  "  Oh,  Ver- 
ney,  no ! " 

He  nodded.  "  I  'm  afraid  so.  And  I  am  sorry,  too, 
Vandewater  is  not  just  the  man  I  'd  like  to  see  in 
the  office.  He  's  not  an  able  lawyer,  in  the  first  place ; 
and  he  has  n't  the  faintest  conception  of  public  duty, 
in  the  second." 

"  Then  he  won't  be  elected." 

He  smiled  at  her  faith  in  the  fitness  of  things  as 
a  factor  in  elections.  "  Well,  I  don't  know.  However, 
it  won't  bother  me  much  if  he  is,  so  long  as  New  York 
elects  a  Republican  Governor ! " 

She  looked  at  him  in  amazement.  He  was  evidently 
in  an  excessively  disheartened  mood  that  evening.  She 
thought  it  must  be  because  he  had  been  ill,  it  was  so 
unlike  him  even  to  admit  the  possibility  of  defeat. 

"  Oh,  but  you  must,"  she  said ;  "  you  must  care  I 
You  '11  never  win  if  you  don't.  And  you  must  win  t 
Things  look  black  to  you  now,  perhaps,  but  it 's  only 

[303] 


The  Politician 

a  mood,  it 's  only  a  temporary  condition  of  things,  I  'm 
sure." 

He  shook  his  head. 

His  hopelessness  alarmed  her.  She  feared  it  as  an 
indication  that  he  was  going  to  fail.  She  wondered 
despairfully  what  she  could  do  to  rouse  his  fighting 
spirit  again,  to  restore  him  to  his  old  state  of  confi- 
dence in  himself. 

"  Do  you  often  read  the  Bible?  "  she  asked  abruptly. 

Astonished,  he  answered,  "  Yes.  I  think  it 's  the  fin- 
est literature  in  the  English  language." 

"  Do  you  read  it  to  get  help,  too  ?  "  she  pursued. 

"  Yes,"  he  said  again  consideringly.     "  Why  ?  " 

"  Because  I  thought  if  you  did  it  would  be  interest- 
ing to  try  a  way  of  getting  help  from  it  that  I  've 
heard  about  all  my  life  from  an  old  sewing-woman  that 's 
lived  with  us  for  ages  —  at  home  in  Lake  Forest,  you 
know.  Her  name  's  Dilly,  and  she  's  the  dearest,  fun- 
niest old  soul !  You  don't  know  what  she  's  been  to  me." 
The  eyes  of  the  motherless  girl  filled  with  tears  at  the 
memory  of  her  old  friend's  kindness.  "  Why,  I 
could  n't  get  along  at  all  without  Dilly ! " 

"What  is  it?  The  way,  I  mean?"  he  said,  more 
interested  in  the  evidence  of  feeling  Harriet  displayed, 
perhaps,  than  in  her  plan. 

"  Why,  she  says,  Dilly  says,  that  if  you  're  in  trouble 
or  doubt,  or  if  things  are  going  wrong  with  you,  that 
if  you  open  the  Bible  anywhere,  it  does  n't  matter  where, 
you  '11  always  find  something  to  fit  your  particular 
need." 

[304] 


What  Money  Cannot  Buy 

She  rose,  went  to  a  table,  and  took  from  it  a  fat 
Drown  Bible.  "  Let 's  try !  "  she  said. 

Her  manner  was  half  smiling,  half  serious,  and  the 
young  man  felt  the  cloud  of  pessimism  and  discourage- 
ment that  obsessed  him  lift  a  little  as  he  looked  at  her. 
The  child-like  faith  with  which  she  had  proposed  this 
superstitious  way  of  helping  him  out  of  his  black  mood 
touched  him  and  appealed  to  his  listless  spirit. 

"  Let  's,"  he  assented  with  a  brighter  expression  than 
he  had  yet  had,  and  they  sat  down  together  on  the 
divan,  the  big  book  resting  on  their  laps. 

"  Now  open  it !  "  she  said  confidently.  "  You  shut 
your  eyes,  though,  first,  Dilly  says,  and  then  open  the 
Bible  and  put  your  finger  on  a  page  without  looking,, 
and  then  look  and  see  what  you  have  found." 

"  All  right !  "  he  agreed ;  "  I  '11  open  the  book  and 
put  my  finger  on  the  page,  but  I  won't  shut  my  eyes 
unless  you  promise  not  to  pinch  me  or  burn  my  hand 
with  a  cigarette !  " 

"  Oh,  how  can  you  be  so  silly?  "  she  laughed.  "  And 
you  should  n't  make  fun  about  the  Bible !  It 's 
wicked!" 

"  I  'm  not  making  fun,"  he  declared  indignantly. 
"  It  would  n't  be  funny  at  all  to  be  pinched  or  burned !  " 

"  Hurry  up !  "  she  admonished,  "  and  try.  I  'm  so 
curious  to  see  if  it  works!" 

He  closed  his  eyes,  opened  the  Bible,  and  placed  a 
challenging  forefinger  on  one  side  of  the  left  page.     She 
hung  over  him  breathless  with  excitement  to  behold  the 
result  of  Dilly's  recipe  for  curing  worried  people. 
20  [  305  ] 


The  Politician 

"  Oh,  look ! "  she  cried.     "  Oh,  look !  " 

He  looked.  His  finger  was  upon  the  eleventh  verse 
of  the  ninth  chapter  of  Ecclesiastes,  and  he  read  it 
aloud,  slowly  and  wonderingly. 

"  I  returned,  and  saw  under  the  sun,  that  the  race  is  not  to  the 
swift,  nor  the  battle  to  the  strong,  neither  yet  bread  to  the  wise, 
nor  yet  riches  to  men  of  understanding,  nor  yet  favour  to  men  of 
skill;  but  time  and  chance  happeneth  to  them  all." 

"  '  But  time  and  chance  happeneth  to  them  all ! ' : 
she  repeated,  her  eyes  wide  with  wonder. 

He  closed  the  Bible  and  put  it  back  on  the  little  table 
where  it  was  kept. 

"  It  worked  all  right,"  he  said,  returning  to  her, 
though  he  did  not  sit  down.  "  Dilly  is  a  wonder.  I 
can't  think  of  anything  in  the  Good  Book  that  more 
directly  applies  to  my  case.  It  as  good  as  says,  *  Don't 
let  the  material  advantages  which  your  antagonist  has 
over  you  discourage  you,  for  the  battle  is  not  always 
to  the  strong,  nor  riches  to  men  of  understanding.' 
In  other  words,  every  man  has  an  equal  chance,  and 
the  man  who  tries  his  utmost,  does  the  very  best  he  can, 
need  not  despair.  Yes  "  —  thoughtfully, —  "  I  think 
Dilly's  plan  a  very  good  one." 

They  were  both  silent  a  moment,  he  leaning  musingly 
against  the  high  mantelpiece,  she  sitting  with  her 
hands  clasped  and  a  glad  look  in  her  face.  She  had 
wanted  to  help  him  in  this  the  darkest  hour  of  the  cam- 
paign, and  she  had  succeeded. 

"  May  I  smoke  ?  "  he  asked,  and  came  over  and  took 
a  chair  near  her.  "  I  feel  better,  more  hopeful,"  he 

[306] 


What  Money  Cannot  Buy 

told  her,  "  about  the  campaign.  I  was  discouraged 
when  I  came ;  I  get  that  way  once  in  a  while.  Because 
I  want  so  much  to  win,  I  suppose.  You  see  it  means 
a  great  deal  more  to  me  to  have  Ordway  succeed  and 
to  succeed  myself,  than  only  a  personal  or  party  triumph. 
We  're  not  running  for  office  only  because  we  're  anxious 
for  our  own  interests,  but  because  we  're  so  much  the 
nearer  to  restoring  public  confidence  in  the  kind  of  men 
they  call  politicians,  and  to  restoring  faith  in  the  organ- 
ization ;  and  you  see,  if  we  make  good,  if  people  find 
we  're  not  simply  working  for  ourselves,  if  they  find 
we  're  working  for  the  best  good  of  the  public,  it  will 
go  far  toward  accomplishing  that. 

"  Oh,  I  feel  it  so  strongly  !  "  —  he  got  up  and  threw 
his  cigarette  in  the  fireplace  — "  that  the  purification 
of  our  politics  rests  upon  the  purification  of  the  men, 
in  control,  not  upon  the  destruction  of  the  political 
organization  itself ! " 

Harriet  watched  him  and  never  afterwards  forgot  how 
he  looked, —  striding  up  and  down  before  her  in  his 
earnestness,  young,  ardent,  and  aspiring.  She  looked 
at  him  with  desperate  admiration,  a  defiant  clinging  to 
her  old  feeling  of  hero-worship  that  was  the  result  of 
her  conviction  that  soon,  very  soon,  she  must  ask  him, 
indirectly  or  directly,  whether  Mrs.  Gibbs's  judgment 
of  him  was  the  true  one. 

"  It 's  a  great  cause  to  champion,"  she  said.  "  I  'm 
very  proud  of  you  for  championing  it !  Are  there  many 
interested  in  it?  " 

"  Yes !  A  great  many,  but  not  enough,  not  enough !  " 
[307] 


The  Politician 

he  spoke  impatiently.  "  Numbers  of  things  seem  more 
important  than  politics  to  most  men !  They  're  more 
easily  interested  in  other  things." 

A  tremor  of  anticipation  shook  her.  The  moment 
had  come  when  the  painful  task  she  had  set  herself  must 
be  begun. 

"In  girls?"     She  smiled. 

He  looked  at  her  quickly  as  if  the  coincidence  of  her 
introducing  the  subject  upon  which  he  had  made  up 
his  mind  to  speak  to  her  that  evening,  the  sub j  ect  of  the 
inexpediency  of  marriage  for  the  man  in  politics,  had 
aroused  a  suspicion  that  she  knew  he  had  so  determined. 
But  her  face  was  innocent  and  calm.  The  opening  had 
been  given  him  by  accident.  Relieved  at  the  ease  with 
which  he  had  found  it,  he  rushed  ahead. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  they  get  interested  in  girls.  In  get- 
ting married.  And  in  order  to  keep  their  families  they 
go  into  business, —  scores  of  them  for  every  one  that 
goes  into  politics.  There  's  no  money  in  politics,  you 
know.  I  mean  of  course  for  an  honest  man.  So,  you 
see,  an  honest  man  without  means  can't  afford  to  adopt 
that  career  for  his  life's  work.  Not  if  he 's  married 
and  has  other  people  dependent  on  him.  And  then,  if 
he  can  afford  to,  the  chances  are  that  a  big  interest 
like  that  in  his  life  —  if  he  's  married,  I  mean, —  will 
make  him  unwilling  or  unable  to  give  his  time  to  politics. 
That 's  the  main  reason,"  his  voice  did  not  falter,  "  why 
I  myself  have  never  been  able  to  think  of  marrying.  I 
want  to  give  all  my  time,  except  just  enough  to  earn 
my  daily  bread,  to  politics." 

[308] 


What  Money  Cannot  Buy 

"  How  much  you  care  about  it  all ! "  said  Harriet, 
leaning  back  against  the  cushions  of  the  lounge,  the 
sudden  need  of  support  strong  upon  her. 

"  Yes,"  he  assented  gravely,  "  more  than  for  any- 
thing else  in  the  world.  It 's  the  work  I  love,  and  I 
must  devote  myself  to  it  with  singleness  of  purpose 
without  letting  anything  else,  any  other  interest,  have 
a  place  in  my  thoughts !  " 

She  understood  him.  He  meant  by  any  other  interest, 
Love.  She  suffered  at  the  thought. 

"  Is  n't  it  a  big  price  to  pay  ?  "  she  said. 

"  Perhaps,  but  we  must  pay  a  price  for  anything 
that 's  worth  while,  and  for  myself  I  'm  content  that  it 
should  be  so.  I  should  consider  it  ignoble  to  accept  the 
gift  of  life  without  giving  something  in  return."  He 
paused.  "  I  wish  I  could  make  you  understand  how  I  feel 
about  my  work,"  he  added  wistfully,  in  an  unconscious 
endeavor  to  justify  to  her,  as  if  he  felt  she  had  a  right 
to  ask  justification  of  him,  his  determination  to  put 
happiness  that  had  to  do  with  the  affections  out  of  his 
life.  "  I  feel  the  same  way  about  it  as  a  man  I  know 
did  about  his  wife.  He  lost  her  very  suddenly;  he 
thought  the  world  of  her,  and  she  died." 

"  Poor  fellow ! "  said  Harriet,  forcing  herself  to  at- 
tend. "  How  did  he  bear  it?  " 

"  He  did  n't.  He  gave  up.  Left  his  business ;  luck- 
ily he  could  afford  to ;  and  all  he  does  in  the  world  now 
is  to  sit  and  read.  He  reads  three  or  four  books  a  day, 
he  tells  me,  just  as  fast  as  he  can,  so  as  too  keep  his 
mind  from  the  loss  of  her,  and  that  in  spite  of  the  fact 

[309] 


The  Politician 

that  his  eyes  are  bad,  and  that  oculists  have  told  him 
if  he  keeps  on  he  '11  be  blind  in  a  year  or  so." 

Harriet  was  interested  in  spite  of  herself.  "  How 
awful! "  she  said.  "  And  he  still  keeps  on?  " 

"  Yes.  He  does  n't  care  whether  he  goes  blind  or 
not,  you  see.  He  does  n't  care  about  anything  any 
more."  He  was  silent  a  moment.  Then  he  said, 
"  That 's  the  way  I  feel  about  my  work :  if  I  had  to  give 
it  up  I  'd  never  be  able  to  interest  myself  in  anything 
else.  I'd  read  myself  blind, —  just  as  he's  doing." 

"  I  see,"  she  said  faintly. 

"  It  is  n't  that  I  don't  want  to  marry,  you  under- 
stand," he  added,  a  new  thought  striking  him ;  "  only 
that  I  can't  if  I  do  anything  else.  Of  course,  I  want 
to,  every  man  does,  and  all  the  more  because  I  know  that 
kind  of  happiness  is  denied  me.  All  my  life  I  've  wanted 
what  I  can't  have ! "  He  spoke  with  passion,  and  the 
girl,  in  spite  of  the  pain  his  words  caused  her,  felt  her 
heart  go  out  to  him  in  sympathy.  She  understood  as 
she  had  not  done  before  how  well  Verney  knew  the  value 
of  what  he  was  giving  up,  and  she  admired  him  in- 
voluntarily for  his  character  in  being  able  to  do  so  in 
spite  of  that  knowledge.  "  So  I  leave  the  marrying  to 
others.  I  've  got  my  work  to  do,"  he  ended,  and  there 
was  a  finality  about  the  words  that  made  Harriet  recog- 
nize beyond  the  shadow  of  a  doubt  that  Mrs.  Gibbs  had 
spoken  the  truth  regarding  the  young  man's  principles. 
She  saw  plainly  —  with  what  inward  grief  and  bitter 
disappointment  only  she  knew  —  that  henceforth  she 
and  this  man  she  had  so  recently  begun  to  idolize  must 

[310] 


What  Money  Cannot  Buy 

go  separate  ways,  that  since  his  friendship  had  not  been 
enough  for  her  he  must  be  nothing  to  her,  that  she  must 
see  him  no  more. 

She  did  not  try  to  think  at  the  moment  whether  Mrs. 
Gibbs's  charge  that  he  had  been  insincere  and  lacking  in 
honorable  conduct  toward  her,  was  true  as  well ;  that 
was  lost  sight  of  in  the  great  elementary  fact  that  no 
matter  whether  they  loved  each  other  or  not,  whether 
she  loved  him  or  he  loved  her,  they  could  never  have  each 
other.  That  was  the  one  point  her  brain  had  grasped 
as  a  result  of  this  conversation  with  Verney.  Beside  it 
the  ins  and  outs  of  how  it  had  all  happened  mattered 
nothing.  The  blow  had  fallen,  and  she  cared  not 
whether  it  was  her  fault  or  his  that  she  had  so  deceived 
herself,  and  that  she  was  enduring  at  that  moment  such 
intolerable  suffering.  She  rose  and  confronted  him  as 
he  leaned  against  the  tall  mantelpiece,  his  eyes  on  the 
floor. 

"Then  you're  not  going  to  marry  any  one?"  she 
asked  with  heart-breaking  sweetness,  a  low  note  of 
tragedy  in  her  voice. 

"  I  can't,"  said  Verney,  without  looking  at  her. 

"  Ever?  "  she  said,  still  in  that  same  voice. 

"  No,"  he  said.  He  knew  that  he  had  to  say  it,  but 
it  was  harder  than  he  had  thought.  A  horrible  fear 
came  over  him  that  his  premonition  had  been  right  after 
all,  her  feeling  for  him  was  more  than  friendship. 

The  uncontrollable  tears  filled  Harriet's  eyes.  She  bit 
her  lips  till  they  were  white,  they  would  tremble  so. 

"  It 's  been  so  nice  to  see  you,"  she  said,  as  if  the  call 
[311] 


The  Politician 

were  at  an  end  and  he  had  spoken  of  going.  "  Come 
and  tell  me  about  the  campaign  when  you  have  time." 

Verney  saw  that  it  was  over  and  that  he  could  go,  and 
he  saw  too,  that  strangely  enough  he  did  not  want  to  go. 
The  color  rushed  to  his  face  and  tender  words  to  his 
lips.  Renunciation  and  gratified  ambition  seemed  of  a 
sudden  meaningless  and  empty  things ;  and  the  only  de- 
sirable things  in  life  the  gift  of  warm  red  blood  and 
the  love  of  woman.  He  knew  that  if  he  had  let  himself, 
he  could  have  loved  this  girl.  The  pause  before  he  spoke 
was  in  reality  not  more  than  a  few  seconds  in  duration 
but  to  him  it  seemed  seons  long.  As  they  stood  gazing 
at  each  other  a  newsboy's  cry  outside  in  the  street  broke 
the  stillness. 

"  Extry !  Extry !  Republican  candidate  for  Gov- 
ernor scores  rival ! "  came  the  loud  hoarse  voice  and 
trailed  away  down  the  street. 

It  was  like  a  call  to  battle  in  Verney's  ears,  very  faint 
and  far  off,  but  a  distinct  call  just  the  same.  He  started 
and  spoke. 

"  Thanks,"  he  said  earnestly ;  "  I  will."  A  second's 
hesitation  and  then  very  low,  "  And  you  don't  know  what 
it  means  to  me  to  have  a  friend  like  you." 

Then  he  left  her. 

Now  it  is  to  be  chronicled  at  this  juncture  that  if 
Harriet  Rand  had  given  way  to  the  extent  of  one  sob 
to  the  storm  of  emotion  struggling  within  her,  if  she 
had  said  so  much  as  one  word  in  protest  against  her  fate, 
if  it  had  been  only  his  name,  "  Verney ! "  that  almost 
anything  might  have  happened.  Say,  for  instance,  that 

[312] 


What  Money  Cannot  Buy 

he  would  have  caught  her  in  his  arms  and  held  her  to> 
him  and  told  her  not  to  cry ;  that  he  did  n't  care  half  as 
much  for  his  old  politics  as  he  did  for  her,  that  he  loved 
her,  he  really  did,  and  any  amount  of  other  foolishness. 

But  that  sob  did  not  escape,  that  word  did  not  pass 
her  lips,  and  he  was  able  to  leave  the  house  without  meet- 
ing the  Madonna  eyes  and  the  look  of  deathly  hurt  in 
them.  For  Harriet  Rand  was  and  always  had  been  what 
George  Benton  called  a  "  dead  game  sport."  She  could 
not  keep  the  tears  from  starting,  but  she  could  and  did 
keep  them  from  falling. 

So  that  Vernor  Ellis,  if  he  had  but  known  it,  should 
have  been  grateful  to  the  girl  all  his  days,  since  what  he 
had  done  had  been  what  he  wanted  to  do  most ;  for  with- 
out her  cooperation  in  that  crucial  moment  he  could 
hardly  have  won  through  that  day  and  been  able  to  abide 
by  his  resolution.  Had  she  been  of  weaker  stuff,  it  is 
safe  to  say  it  would  have  been  the  career,  not  the  girl, 
that  the  Politician  would  have  renounced.  Even  as  it 
was,  the  result  of  their  conversation  was  that  Verney 
had  at  last  been  brought  to  see  his  responsibility.  What 
all  Mrs.  Gibbs's  lectures  on  the  subject  and  his  uncle's 
advice  had  failed  to  accomplish,  the  sound  of  grief  in 
Harriet's  voice  had  accomplished  in  a  moment.  Not 
that  he  for  an  instant  believed  that  Harriet  was  actually 
and  already  in  love  with  him,  but  only  that  with  her 
faltering  question,  "  Then  you  're  not  going  to  marry 
any  one?  "  the  idea  had  occurred  to  him  with  a  positive- 
ness  no  man  could  doubt,  which  Verney  through  his  lack 
of  vanity  had  doubted  too  long,  perhaps,  for  the  girl's 

[313] 


The  Politician 

peace  of  mind,  that  if  he  were  to  try,  if  he  should 
make  it  his  business  to  try  to  win  her  affections,  he  would 
stand  a  very  big  chance  of  succeeding. 

For  him,  then,  to  have  realized  this  possibility  at  that 
moment,  caring  as  much  for  her  as  he  did,  and  not  to  have 
put  his  arms  about  her  and  committed  himself  to  caring 
more,  was  nothing  short  of  heroic ;  in  Verney  Ellis 
more  than  another  man,  for  a  genuinely  kind  heart  and 
an  intense  aversion  to  causing  suffering  were  eminently 
characteristic  of  him. 

The  thought  that  comforted  him  the  most  afterwards 
whenever  a  guilty  sense  of  his  responsibility  in  the 
matter  came  over  him  was  that  it  would  not  have  been 
right  to  Harriet  to  behave  otherwise  than  he  had  done. 
For  he  knew  better  than  any  one  else  that  the  only  kind 
of  devotion  he  had  to  offer  any  woman  was  at  best  a 
divided  one;  and  he  had  seen  for  himself  in  the  case  of 
Agnes  Ordway,  that  unhappiness,  and  danger  of  worse 
where  the  woman  was  concerned,,  was  the  inevitable  re- 
sult of  that  divided  devotion. 

That  he  should  ask  Harriet  to  occupy  the  kind  of 
anomalous  position  that  Mrs.  Ordway  occupied  as  the 
wife  of  a  politician,  neglected  and  forced  into  other 
company  than  her  husband's  for  diversion,  seemed  to 
him  unthinkable;  and  the  idea  that  she  might  through 
him  acquire  that  pathetic  loneliness  of  look  that  the 
older  woman  had  to  such  a  degree  made  him  congratulate 
himself  a  dozen  times  for  her  sake  —  that  he  had  not 
yielded  to  the  temptation  to  take  what  a  subtle  something 
in  the  air  seemed  to  hint  might  perhaps  be  his  for  the 

[314] 


What  Money  Cannot  Buy 

taking.  Then  too  he  could  not  but  believe  that  his  giv- 
ing up  his  chance  with  Miss  Rand  had  no  greater  signifi- 
cance as  far  as  she  was  concerned  than  the  withdrawal 
of  a  promising  entry  on  her  matrimonial  books  —  as 
he  put  the  thing  to  himself  —  and  that  some  other  com- 
petitor would  rank  as  high  as  he  had  and  higher  before 
they  were  closed. 

It  was  these  two  convictions  which  saved  him  on  that 
agitating  evening  from  the  greatest  unhappiness  a  loyal, 
high-principled,  warm-hearted  young  man  can  have  — 
the  knowledge  that  through  his  thoughtlessness  a  girl 
in  every  way  entitled  to  a  man's  love  has  begun  to  think 
more  of  him  than  it  is  in  his  power  to  reciprocate,  and 
gave  him  the  courage  not  to  respond  in  spite  of  the 
promptings  of  a  heart  that  said :  "  Do  it !  Do  it ! 
Don't  let  her  marry  some  one  else,  marry  her  yourself !  " 

As  for  Harriet,  she  too  came  in  time  to  see  that 
what  had  happened  was  for  the  best  for  her  and  for 
him.  That  with  his  ambitions  he  could  never  be  happy 
if  he  were  to  marry,  since  he  thought  it  was  inevitable 
that  the  one  thing  must  interfere  with  the  other  —  and 
that  it  was  true  as  Mrs.  Gibbs  had  said,  that  Verney 
married  would  be  Verney  without  a  career.  And  both 
women  were  right  in  believing  this,  that  with  every  in- 
tention to  the  contrary,  Verney  was  naturally  of  too 
kind  a  heart  to  be  capable  of  always  sacrificing  his 
wife's  claims  upon  his  time  to  the  claims  of  his  work, 
and  that  it  would  mean  eventually  his  withdrawal  from 
politics. 

To  ask  this  of  the  kind  of  enthusiast  that  Verney  was, 
[315] 


The  Politician 

Harriet  grew  to  realize  would  be  cruel,  and  that  though 
he  might  make  the  sacrifice  cheerfully  he  would  never  be 
able  to  forget  that  he  had  made  it.  Although  he  might 
seem  to  be  content  once  it  had  been  made,  she  felt  that 
like  the  soldier  who  abandons  the  army  to  please  his 
wife,  he  would  always  hear  the  bugles  blowing,  and  that 
not  all  the  kisses  in  the  world  could  keep  the  sound  of 
them  from  his  ears.  And  then  again  she  did  not  want 
him  to  give  up  his  career.  She  believed  in  him  and 
the  good  he  was  going  to  do  if  he  achieved  his  ambi- 
tions, and  she  was  patriotic  enough  to  want  him  to  suc- 
ceed. She  cared  so  much  for  him  that,  even  if  she 
had  not  believed  in  him,  she  still  wanted  him  to  remain 
in  politics  if  that  was  his  heart's  desire.  She  saw,  too, 
and  this  was  perhaps  the  thought  that  comforted  her 
the  most,  that  what  Mrs.  Gibbs  had  said  about  his  in- 
sincerity and  indifference  to  his  responsibilities  was  un- 
just and  false. 

Harriet  was  too  noble  herself  not  to  acquit  him  in- 
stantly of  such  an  ignoble  charge  as  that,  when  she 
heard  him  set  forth  with  such  earnestness  his  reasons  for 
adopting  his  resolution  and  his  difficulty  in  keeping  it. 
His  "  Of  course  I  want  to  marry,  every  man  does.  I 
always  want  what  I  can't  have,"  was  pathetically  en- 
lightening. And  if  she  had  doubted  the  genuineness  of 
his  regard  for  herself  even  more  seriously  than  she  had 
done,  that  "  you  don't  know  what  it  means  to  me  to  have 
a  friend  like  you  "  of  his  at  parting  would  have  served  to 
drive  that  doubt  from  her  mind. 

Of  course  he  was  fond  of  her,  and  in  the  light  of  that 
[316] 


"Why  did  this  happen  to  me?" 


What  Money  Cannot  Buy 

conviction  which  had  been  momentarily  disturbed  by  the 
misrepresentations  of  the  malicious  Mrs.  Gibbs,  and  was 
now  fully  restored  to  her,  it  was  easy  enough  to  under- 
stand that  his  apparent  lack  of  good  faith  toward  her 
on  those  occasions  when  he  had  seemed  to  give  her 
reason  to  think  he  cared  more  for  her  than  he  did,  had 
only  been  the  result  of  the  terrific  struggle  going  on 
within  him  between  his  resolution  and  his  inclination, 
the  temporary  weakness  of  a  young  man  not  by  nature 
adamantine  placed  in  a  hard  and  peculiar  position. 

So  while  Verney  was  finding  comfort  in  the  thought 
that  what  had  happened  was  best  for  Harriet,  Harriet 
was  finding  comfort  in  the  thought  that  it  was  best 
for  Verney.  But  a  resigning  thought  is  not  resigna- 
tion ;  and  though  it  stayed  up  her  hands  and  made  pos- 
sible what  was  otherwise  unbearable,  nothing,  nothing 
—  so  weak  is  human  nature,  so  uncontrolled  the  passions, 
so  universal  the  law  that  we  must  think  of  ourselves 
first, —  nothing  could  stay  the  tide  of  grief  that  en- 
gulfed Harriet  when  Verney  had  departed,  or  check 
her  tears  as  she  lay  prostrate  on  the  big  divan  in  the 
library  where  he  had  left  her. 

"  Why  did  this  happen  to  me  ?  "  she  cried,  unable  to 
understand  why  this  blow  had  fallen  upon  her,  petted 
heiress  that  she  was,  favored  of  fortune,  brought  up  to 
think  that  she  was  born  to  the  divine  right  of  happiness, 
"  why  did  this  happen  to  me  ?  " 

And  it  was  a  long  time  before  the  thought  "  It  Js  best 
for  Verney  "  came  to  comfort  her. 

[317] 


CHAPTER  XIX 

"SO  THEY  DREW  ON  TOWARDS  THE  HOUSE  OF  THE 
INTERPRETER" 

VERNEY  ELLIS'S  resolution  to  put  out  of  his 
life  all  thought  of  marriage,  to  the  sincerity 
of  which  his  recent  experience  with  Harriet 
Rand  so  emphatically  testified,  was  in  a  sense  an  example 
of  the  old,  old  question  of  a  man's  choosing  between  love 
and  ambition,  which  is  as  ancient  as  the  history  of  the 
world ;  which  Napoleon  decided  for  himself  by  renounc- 
ing Josephine,  and  Marc  Antony  by  renouncing  the 
Caesarship  of  Rome.  But  the  feature  that  distinguished 
his  case  from  other  cases  was  the  unselfish  motive  that 
ruled  him  in  making  that  choice.  Unlike  that  of  the 
illustrious  personages  just  named,  his  ambition  was  not 
selfish.  It  must  rather  be  remembered  in  extenuation 
of  the  undeniable  fact  that  he  had  brought  unhappiness 
into  the  life  of  Harriet  Rand,  that  his  resolution  had  not 
been  taken  that  he  might  satisfy  his  own  craving  for 
distinction.  It  had  been  taken  not  so  much  that  he 
might  be  enabled  to  see  to  what  an  eminence  James 
Vernor  Ellis  might  climb,  as  to  see  what  James  Vernor 
Ellis  could  do  toward  improving  political  conditions  in 
his  country,  in  so  far  as  his  limited  field  of  activity 
offered  him  opportunity.  His  problem  was  not  one  of 

[318] 


The  House  of  the  Interpreter 

choosing  between  love  and  a  career,  but  between  love  of 
country  and  love  of  woman.  Not  that  he  would  have 
so  described  it  himself.  He  did  not  think  he  was  any 
more  patriotic  than  the  next  man,  or  that  he  had  been 
in  any  sense  heroic  in  giving  up  his  chance  with  Harriet 
Rand.  He  had  something  to  accomplish  in  his  life  that 
he  thought  it  was  necessary  to  accomplish ;  which  made  it 
equally  necessary  that  he  should  not  do  anything  else^ 
That  was  all  there  was  to  it,  in  his  opinion. 

The  mingled  remorse  and  regret  that  he  felt  during; 
the  days  that  followed  his  memorable  understanding; 
with  Harriet  was  not  to  be  compared  in  degree  of  suffer- 
ing with  what  she  felt.  Absorbed  as  he  was  in  working- 
for  his  friend  Ordway's  interests  and  his  own  in  the 
State  campaign,  he  was  able  to  put  the  dreadful  feeling 
of  loss  that  had  overwhelmed  him  immediately  upon 
leaving  Harriet's  presence,  almost  entirely  out  of  his 
consciousness. 

Not  so  the  girl.  She  had  met  the  force  of  the  blow 
which  the  alignment  of  her  life  had  sustained  when  the 
impossible  nature  of  her  attachment  for  Verney  had  been 
made  clear  to  her,  with  her  whole  being.  The  hurt  was 
both  mental  and  physical;  and  far  from  being  able  to 
put  it  out  of  her  mind,  she  could  not  keep  her  thoughts 
from  dwelling  upon  it. 

The  effort  of  appearing  natural  and  untroubled,  so 
that  her  aunt  might  not  surmise  that  anything  had 
gone  wrong,  became  daily  more  intolerable,  and  she 
longed  inexpressibly  for  solitude  and  silence  and  the 
absence  of  the  necessity  for  self-control,  so  that  she 

[319] 


The  Politician 

might  let  her  unhappiness  have  its  way.  But  although 
her  grief  was  great  in  proportion  to  the  fact  that  it  was 
the  first  of  the  kind  in  her  life,  it  was  not  so  desperate 
that  she  had  given  up  hope  of  rising  above  it.  As 
plainly  as  she  saw  the  necessity  of  adjusting  herself  to 
the  idea  of  living  without  Verney,  her  good  sense  told 
her  she  would  succeed.  Change  of  scene  was,  however, 
she  realized,  an  essential  to  success ;  and  that  it  should 
be  immediate  she  thought  was  more  than  advisable. 

She  could  not  be  gone  for  more  than  a  week,  she 
knew ;  because  a  dinner,  which  Mrs.  Ordway  was  going 
to  give  in  honor  of  the  nomination  for  office  of  her 
husband  and  Verney  Ellis,  required  her  presence  in  New 
York  at  the  end  of  that  time ;  and  no  matter  how  much 
she  might  wish  to  get  out  of  it,  the  thought  that  Verney 
might  divine  the  true  reason  for  her  absence  if  she 
made  some  excuse  and  stayed  away  determined  her  not 
to  miss  it.  She  was,  besides,  a  courageous  creature, 
and  the  duty  of  being  friends  with  Verney  and  friends 
only  having  been  made  plain  to  her,  she  was  not  the  one 
to  wish  to  shirk  her  first  meeting  with  him  in  that  char- 
acter. The  only  place  in  the  world  where  she  thought 
she  could  find  solace  for  her  aching  heart  was  Lake 
Forest,  her  beloved  home  in  the  country  where  she  had 
spent  her  childhood.  It  was  different,  of  course,  from 
what  it  was  then,  for  Mrs.  Cumloch  had  only  recently 
substituted  the  Italian  palace  that  now  adorned  it  in 
lieu  of  the  spreading  old-fashioned  house  which  Har- 
riet's mother  had  known ;  but  the  woods  about  it  were 
the  same,  the  ravines  and  drives ;  and  Harriet  had  grown 

[320] 


The  House  of  the  Interpreter 

to  love  its  splendid  gardens  and  wonderful  velvet  lawnsr 
nor  had  the  perfectly  appointed  house  with  its  rich,, 
luxurious  tone  ever  been  anything  but  pleasing  to  her. 

But  it  did  n't  really  matter  whether  she  had  been  ac- 
customed to  live  in  a  palace  or  a  hut,  that  had  no  part 
in  her  longing  for  a  week  in  Lake  Forest.  What  she 
wanted  was  "  home,"  to  breathe  again  the  friendly  air 
of  the  part  of  the  country  where  she  had  been  born, 
to  feel  the  prairie  breezes  of  Illinois  on  her  cheek,  to 
look  from  her  window  out  over  the  lawn  to  the  tree- 
filled  ravine  where  she  and  Pauline  Wright  and  Francis 
Morton  and  George  Benton  had  played  Indian  as 
children.  Yes,  she  wanted  to  go  home;  that  was  all 
she  wanted,  and  home  she  decided  to  go. 

Mrs.  Cumloch  was  very  much  surprised  when  Harriet 
informed  her  of  her  plan,  and  she  demurred  not  a  little, 
although  she  admitted  she  had  engagements  in  New 
York  which  made  it  impossible  for  her  to  go  with  her 
niece  —  when  it  became  apparent  that  Harriet  intended 
to  go  alone. 

"  It  will  be  only  for  a  week,"  the  girl  told  her, 
"  and  the  caretaker  and  his  wife  will  be  there,  and 
Dilly  and  the  stablemen,  and  I  '11  bring  Maggie " — • 
Maggie  was  the  cook  — "  out  from  the  town  house  with 
me  if  you  say  so.  Oh,  it  will  be  all  right,  Aunt  Lydia, 
don't  worry ! " 

And  the  independent  young  woman  even  refused  to 

take  Rosa  with  her,  the  maid  who  attended  both  the 

older  lady  and  the  younger  one.     She  did  not  want,  she 

said,  to  deprive  her  aunt  of  the  maid,  who  had  been  with 

21  [  321  ] 


The  Politician 

her  a  long  time,  but  in  reality  she  thought  the  privilege 
of  having  her  stateroom  to  herself  more  than  made  up 
for  having  to  button  her  own  shoes. 

Harriet  completed  her  arrangements  for  her  trip  to 
Chicago  so  expeditiously  that  the  afternoon  of  the  day 
on  which  she  had  made  up  her  mind  to  go  found  her  on 
tioard  the  Twentieth  Century  Limited,  saying  good-bye 
to  Mrs.  Cumloch,  who  had  come  down  against  the  girl's 
wishes,  to  see  her  off.  They  parted  with  great  ap- 
parent tenderness  on  Harriet's  part  and  a  somewhat 
irritated  bewilderment  on  that  of  the  older  lady.  She 
had  not  been  able  to  get  out  of  her  niece  any  better 
explanation  of  her  sudden  flight,  than  the  assurance 
that  she  was  homesick  for  her  horse  Phantom! 

This  absurdity,  offered  in  Harriet's  gravest,  most 
convincing  manner,  Mrs.  Cumloch  received  in  scornful 
silence,  and  with  a  shrewd  guess  at  the  truth  she  in- 
wardly made  up  her  mind  that  her  niece's  sudden  de- 
termination to  have  a  week  by  herself  in  Lake  Forest 
had  something  to  do  with  that  graceless,  conscienceless 
scamp,  Verney  Ellis !  For  the  Politician  was  not  a 
favorite  with  Mrs.  Cumloch.  She  wanted  her  niece 
to  marry  George  Benton,  and  she  had  feared  for  some 
time  that  the  unfortunate  infatuation  for  the  young 
New  Yorker  was  going  to  make  that  amibition  more 
unlikely  to  be  realized  than  ever. 

Oh,  but  it  was  good  to  get  home !  The  first  sight  of 
the  beaconing  waters  of  Lake  Michigan,  as  the  Limited 
.swept  through  the  northwest  corner  of  Indiana,  filled 

[322] 


The  House  of  the  Interpreter 

Harriet  with  joy,  and  banished  for  the  moment  the- 
pain  in  her  heart.  She  did  not  stop  long  in  the  city, 
however,  but  only  took  time  to  go  up  to  the  house  on 
the  Drive  to  arrange  about  bringing  out  the  cook, 
Maggie,  to  Lake  Forest,  as  she  had  promised  her  aunt 
to  do.  She  did  not  go  to  see  any  of  her  friends.  Lake. 
Forest  was  her  goal,  and  she  could  not  get  there  soonu 
enough;  and  then  she  was  not  anxious  to  have  to  ex- 
plain just  what  had  brought  her  back  to  Chicago  in 
such  a  hurry  and  without  Mrs.  Cumloch.  It  was  there- 
fore more  annoying  than  pleasant  to  have  Cornelia 
Presbey  drop  in  to  see  her  before  she  had  been  half  an 
hour  in  the  house.  She  feared  just  at  that  time  the 
sharp  eyes  of  Verney's  sister,  who  had  guessed  long  agor 
as  Harriet  was  aware  she  had,  the  girl's  attachment  for 
the  Politician.  But  Cornelia  had  seen  the  motor  at  the 
door  and  must  needs  come  in  to  see  "  if  they  had  gotten 
back." 

"  And  you  mean  to  say  Mrs.  Cumloch  's  still  in  Ne\r 
York  —  you  came  alone  ?  "  she  asked,  all  bright  hair 
and  breeziness,  when  she  had  embraced  Harriet. 

"  Yes,"  said  Harriet,  answering  both  questions  at 
once,  "  and  I  'm  going  back  myself  in  a  few  days." 

"  But  why,  why  did  you  come  ?  "  interrogated  the 
other,  her  curiosity  not  at  all  satisfied.  "  What  is  there 
to  bring  you  home  so  suddenly  and  for  so  short  a 
time?" 

Harriet  was  fond  of  Mrs.  Presbey,  but  she  knew  whenc 
she  considered  that  curiosity  even  in  a  friend  had  been 
carried  too  far. 

[323] 


The  Politician 

**  I  came  to  see  about  closing  the  house  in  the  country 
for  the  winter,"  she  replied,  looking  her  friend  straight 
in  the  eyes  and  with  such  an  expression  of  ca.lra  de- 
fiance in  her  own,  that  the  latter  saw  she  was  not  to  be 
further  questioned. 

"  Oh,"  Mrs.  Presbey  said,  hurriedly ;  "  of  course ! " 
and  launched  into  a  voluble  account  of  all  she  had  been 
doing  herself  since  Harriet  had  left.  That  topic  ex- 
hausted, she  told  Harriet  that  if  there  was  anything  she 
could  do  for  her,  to  help,  she  would  love  to  do  it,  and 
took  her  departure  —  only  to  tell  her  husband  that  even- 
ing when  he  came  home,  that  Harriet  was  in  love  with 
Verney  and  that  Verney  had  declined  to  be  in  love  with 
her,  and  that  Harriet  had  run  away  to  Chicago  to  hide 
the  first  pangs  of  her  broken  heart. 

"  Do  you  really  think  so  ?  "  asked  Lawrence  Presbey, 
more  to  get  further  details  of  the  affair  out  of  his  wife 
than  because  he  doubted  her  judgment.  He  had  learned 
in  the  course  of  ten  years  of  married  life  to  rely  im- 
plicitly upon  Cornelia's  intuitions. 

"  I  know  so,"  said  his  wife  positively ;  and  then,  with 
scorn,  "it's  just  like  Verney  to  miss  a  chance  like 
that!" 

And  Lawrence  Presbey,  divining  that  Harriet's  for- 
tune was  the  "  chance  "  referred  to,  gave  a  noncom- 
mittal "  um-um !  "  in  reply,  deprecating  in  true  masculine 
fashion,  not  the  mercenary  sentiment,  but  such  frank 
expression  of  it. 

When  Harriet  reached  Lake  Forest  at  last,  and  caught 
sight  of  the  familiar  countenance  and  substantial  form 

[324] 


The  House  of  the  Interpreter 

of  her  aunt's  coachman  waiting  to  welcome  her  as  she 
stepped  off  the  train,  her  lip  trembled,  she  was  so  glad ! 
She  had  expected  him  to  meet  her,  of  course,  for  she 
had  telegraphed,  but  it  was  so  good  really  to  see  him! 

It  was  her  meeting  with  Dilly,  however,  the  faithful 
handmaiden  —  if  a  woman  of  Dilly's  mature  years 
may  be  termed  a  maiden  —  who  had  sewed  for  Harriet 
since  her  young  girlhood,  that  caused  the  complete  de- 
struction of  the  girl's  self-control  that  had  ruled  her 
so  long ;  for  except  for  that  first  outburst  when  Verney 
had  left  her  the  fateful  day  of  her  enlightenment,  she 
had  not  once  given  way  to  tears. 

"  What  ever  made  you  come  back  all  on  a  sudden 
without  your  aunt  this  way,  Miss  Harrie?  "  enquired 
Dilly  of  the  prunes  and  prisms  mouth  and  crinkly  eyes, 
as  she  came  out  to  greet  Harriet  when  the  runabout 
had  stopped  under  the  porte  cochere.  Her  uncompro- 
mising knob  of  gray  hair  at  the  back  of  her  head,  her 
big-bowed  spectacles  and  dumpy  figure,  did  not  make 
the  little  New  England  woman  anything  but  homely,  but 
to  Miss  Rand  she  was  as  beautiful  as  an  angel. 

"  O  Dilly,  I  've  come  home ! "  she  cried  in  a  thrilling 
voice,  and  burst  into  tears. 

The  period  of  readjustment  was  not  a  long  one  for 
Harriet.  After  all,  her  attachment  for  Verney  had  been: 
quickly  formed  and  had  been  of  short  duration,  and  it 
was  not  remarkable  that  the  process  of  bringing  herself 
back  step  by  step  to  the  feeling  of  friendly  admiration 
and  regard  she  had  first  entertained  for  him  should  be 
as  speedy.  Having  come  such  a  little  distance  on  the. 

[325] 


The  Politician 

road  to  love  she  had  not  far  to  go  back,  now  that  she 
was  obliged  to  retrace  her  steps.  And  perhaps  this  was 
^11  the  more  possible  because  her  feeling  for  Verney  had 
'partaken  so  largely  of  hero-worship,  which  as  a  senti- 
ment often  reaches  as  great  heights  as  love,  but  is  more 
easily  conquered.  It  is  not  to  be  denied,  however,  that 
it  was  fortunate  she  was  able  to  turn  back  when  she  did, 
.before  her  feeling,  whatever  it  was,  had  grown  too  strong 
to  be  uprooted. 

Pier  first  day  at  Lake  Forest  was  one  that  Harriet 
never  forgot,  it  was  so  supremely  wretched.  She  had 
arrived  in  the  morning  and  had  taken  to  her  bed,  where 
the  tears  which  she  had  denied  so  long,  and  of  which  those 
she  had  shed  on  Dilly's  shoulder  were  only  the  advance 
guard,  held  sway.  With  wild  sobs  she  told  herself  that 
she  wished  she  were  dead,  that  she  should  never  get  over 
it,  and  promised  herself  a  hundred  times  that  she  would 
go  to  Verney  the  minute  she  got  back  to  New  York  and 
tell  him  she  loved  him,  and  that  he  could  neglect  her  all 
he  liked  and  spend  all  his  time  on  politics  if  only  he 
would  marry  her. 

A  girl  of  less  character  would  undoubtedly  have  fol- 
lowed this  course  long  ago.  Unable  to  accept  her  un- 
happiness  without  protest,  such  a  girl  would  have  gone 
to  the  young  man  at  once,  thrown  herself  in  his  arms, 
and  besought  his  compassion  in  the  hope  that  she  could 
by  such  means  force  him  to  abandon  his  principles  and 
give  way  to  his  love  for  her.  But  Harriet  Rand  was 
neither  so  foolish  nor  so  weak.  That  was  something 
Mrs.  Gibbs  might  do,  but  not  she.  Stress  of  emotion 


The  House  of  the  Interpreter 

might  suggest  the  idea,  but  pride  and  good  sense  would 
prevent  her  from  any  real  attempt  to  carry  it  out. 

The  next  day  brought  her  a  visit  from  her  friend 
Pauline  Wright,  very  much  surprised  to  learn  by  chance, 
through  Dilly,  that  Harriet  was  home. 

"  Why  did  n't  you  let  me  know,  Harrie  ?  "  she  said, 
gently  reproachful ;  "  Dilly  says  you  got  so  tired  out 
having  a  good  time  in  New  York  that  you  had  to  come 
home  and  get  rested,  but  I  don't  see  that  that 's  any 
reason  for  not  seeing  me." 

She  removed  the  faded  summer  hat  she  wore  from  her 
waving  ash-brown  hair,  carefully  sticking  the  hat  pins 
through  it,  and  sat  down  on  the  foot  of  Harriet's  bed. 

"  It  is  n't  any  reason,"  Harriet  said,  wondering  mean- 
while if  she  should  tell  Polly. 

"  What  have  you  been  doing  with  yourself  while  I  've 
been  away?"  she  asked,  deciding  that  she  wouldn't 
tell  just  then.  "  Let  me  see,  how  long  is  that?  " 

"  You  went  to  New  York  the  last  week  in  June. 
About  three  months,  Harrie." 

Harriet's  sigh  was  like  a  burning  breeze  on  a  desert 
isle. 

"It  seems  much  longer.  But  what's  the  news? 
Anything?  " 

"  Nothing  much.  Francis  — "  that  was  the  young 
man  whose  views  on  politics  had  clashed  with  Verney's  on 
the  occasion  of  Mrs.  Cumloch's  dinner  after  the  Con- 
vention — "  has  gone  away.  On  a  trip  with  his  father." 

She  paused. 

"  And  George  Benton?  Is  he  here?  "  asked  Harriet, 
[327] 


The  Politician 

surprised  at  herself  for  asking.  She  had  not  expected 
from  her  broken  heart  that  much  interest  in  a  man  again. 
'*  Yes,  I  saw  him  the  other  evening."  A  delicate  pink 
crept  into  Pauline's  fair  cheek. 

But  Harriet  was  too  occupied  with  her  own  thoughts 
to  notice  it. 

"  He  is  a  nice  boy,"  she  said  musingly,  as  if  some  one 
had  been  arguing  the  point  with  her. 

"  I  think  so,"  assented  the  other  softly,  and  then  with 
the  confidential  archness  that  their  long  intimacy  war- 
ranted, "  how  's  Mr.  Ellis?  " 

The  tears,  never  far  away  just  then,  rushed  to  Har- 
riet's eyes.  Self  pity  welled  up  in  their  brown  depths 
and  she  turned  her  face  in  toward  the  pillow. 

"Don't  ask  me!"  she  said.  "Oh,  Polly,  I'm  so 
miserable ! " 

For  a  moment  an  expression  that  might  have  been 
concern  but  which  seemed  more  like  consternation, 
passed  over  Pauline's  face,  then  it  was  all  tenderness. 

"  You  poor  dear,"  she  said ;  "  tell  me  all  about  it ! " 

And  Harriet  telling  her,  found  that  the  luxury  of  woe 
was  incomplete  without  the  ear  of  sympathy ;  and 
when  she  had  finished  a  broken  account  of  her  little 
ill-fated  love  story,  she  clasped  her  friend  around  the 
neck  and  sobbing  cried,  "  O  Polly,  Polly !  Why  did 
it  happen  to  me ! " 

The  role  of  comforter  was  the  one  most  suited  to 
Pauline  Wright's  character,  whose  heart  was  all  com- 
passion, and  whose  voice  was  made  to  soothe.  All 
the  afternoon  she  sat  with  Harriet,  ministering  to  her 

[328] 


The  House  of  the  Interpreter 

grief  with  wise  word  and  tender  caress ;  and  when  she 
had  brought  her  to  a  less  tragic  mood,  kissed  her  gently, 
promising  to  come  again.  Then  she  went  back 
through  the  grounds  of  the  big  house,  across  the 
ravine,  over  some  fields  to  the  little  house  where  she 
lived.  It  was  a  familiar  walk  —  she  and  Harriet  had 
traversed  it  many  times  going  back  and  forth  to  see 
each  other,  and  she  had  always  loved  it;  but  that 
evening  it  seemed  to  have  lost  its  familiar  look  and  its 
lovableness.  There  was  no  longer  to  her  any  beauty  or 
gladness  in  the  world.  "  If  only  Verney  Ellis  had  cared 
for  her,"  Pauline  thought  — "  perhaps  —  perhaps  — 

She  had  kept  her  lamp  trimmed  a  long,  long  time; 
but  now,  it  seemed,  it  had  been  in  vain. 

Harriet  took  life  very  easily  those  days  at  Lake 
Forest.  Profound  exhaustion  was  her  dominant  physi- 
cal sensation;  she  slept  late  in  the  mornings  and  often 
did  not  rise  immediately  when  she  wakened.  She  would 
lie  in  bed  looking  out  through  the  flowered  chintz 
hangings  of  her  windows  on  the  artificial  pool  fringed 
with  barberry  and  late  blooming  plants  on  the  lawn 
below,  and  think  and  think.  Slowly,  very  slowly,  she 
was  coming  to  the  conclusion  that  meant  peace  if  once 
definitely  arrived  at  —  that  perhaps,  after  all,  life  with 
Verney  Ellis  might  not  mean  happiness ;  that  to  marry 
a  man  whose  whole  heart  was  in  an  outside  interest, 
who  was  one-ideaed  on  any  subject  as  Verney  was  about 
politics,  might  even  mean  unhappiness.  And  always 
when  she  had  reached  that  point  in  her  meditations  the 
face  of  Agnes  Ordway,  wife  of  the  Republican  candi- 

[329] 


The  Politician 

date  for  Governor  of  New  York,  would  come  before 
her  mental  vision  with  its  beautiful  sad  mouth,  and  sad 
beautiful  eyes ;  and  while  it  brooded  over  her  the  lips 
seemed  to  repeat  what  Mrs.  Ordway  said  to  Harriet 
that  afternoon  at  Mrs.  de  Albert's  tea,  "  Don't  marry 
a  politician  if  you  want  to  help." 

Harriet  wondered  at  the  time  what  the  young  married 
woman  meant  when  she  gave  that  warning ;  now,  in  the 
light  of  her  own  experience,  her  own  knowledge,  she 
understood.  Mrs.  Ordway  had  divined  her  deep  interest 
in  Verney  and  had  been  prompted  to  speak  the  cryptic 
sentence  from  a  hope  that  she  might  prevent  her  from 
suffering  the  same  lonely  fate  that  she  herself  had  suf- 
fered, that  of  marrying  a  man  whose  work,  not  his  wife, 
is  his  passion,  and  whose  interest  in  that  work  keeps 
him  most  of  the  time  away  from  home.  The  girl  smiled 
sadly  to  herself  as  she  remembered  the  intense  feeling 
with  which  Mrs.  Ordway  that  same  afternoon  had  de- 
clared that  she  relied  upon  her  art  to  fill  her  time,  and 
how  puzzled  she  herself  had  been  to  account  for  that 
intensity.  It  was  all  clear  enough  now;  that  pathetic 
something  she  had  noticed  about  Agnes  Ordway's  ex- 
pression when  they  first  met,'  but  which  she  had  not 
understood,  was  loneliness. 

So  Harriet  thought  and  slept,  and  slept  and  thought ; 
and  rest  "  knit  up  the  ravelled  sleave  of  care  "  by  night ; 
and  the  face  of  Agnes  Ordway  helped  her  through  the 
day,  and  with  every  hour  her  healing  grew  more  pro- 
nounced. Silence  and  solitude  and  a  sense  of  her 

[330] 


The  House  of  the  Interpreter 

remoteness  from  the  scene  of  her  hurt  had  their  way 
with  her;  and  Maggie  made  her  delicious  things  to  eat 
and  brought  up  her  breakfast  in  the  morning;  and 
Dilly,  the  ever  faithful,  brushed  out  her  long  beautiful 
hair  for  her  at  night  until  she  felt  sleepy,  and  told 
her  quaint  stories,  in  the  dry,  satirical  way  that  was 
such  a  surprising  contrast  to  her  commonplace,  homely 
personality,  about  her  girlhood  in  New  England.  Har- 
riet would  begin  by  smiling  just  to  please  Dilly,  and 
end  by  laughing  heartily  because  she  could  n't  help  it. 

When  she  had  finally  closed  the  door  upon  her  young 
mistress,  Dilly  would  go  downstairs  and  find  Maggie, 
and  the  two  faithful  old  souls  over  a  late  cup  of  tea 
would  unite  in  anathematizing  "  the  black-hearted 
villain  " —  Maggie's  words  —  who  had  brought  such 
unhappiness  into  their  darling's  life.  For  it  had  not 
taken  either  the  kind-hearted  old  Irishwoman  or  the 
shrewd  New  Englander  long  to  decide  that  as  the  be- 
ginning and  end  of  all  trouble  was  Man,  a  man  had  been 
the  cause  of  Harriet's  present  state  of  depression,  and 
that  their  idol  was  suffering  from  "  a  disappointment 
in  love." 

On  the  fourth  day  of  her  self-inflicted  retirement 
Harriet's  splendid  health  came  to  the  rescue,  and  she 
found  to  her  surprise  that  she  had  a  great  deal  more 
energy  and  ambition  than  she  had  ever  thought  to  have 
again.  It  was  three  o'clock  of  a  crisp  October  day. 
There  had  been  a  hard  frost  over  night,  and  the  skies 
above  and  the  earth  beneath  were  iron-bound.  Har- 
riet was  not  up ;  she  had  not  yet  felt  the  need  of  aris- 

[331  ] 


The  Politician 

ing,  or  that  there  was  anything  to  arise  for.  But  that 
afternoon  somehow  it  was  different.  A  sudden  revul- 
sion of  feeling  came  over  her.  Thinking  became  a 
burden  to  her,  inaction  hateful,  and  lying  in  bed  a 
shameful  thing.  She  became  aware  that  a  tide  of 
healthy  blood  was  coursing  through  her  veins,  no  matter 
how  sick  her  mind  might  be,  and  as  she  looked  eagerly 
out  upon  the  day,  she  knew  on  the  instant  that  the  thing 
she  wanted  most  in  the  world  was  to  be  on  a  horse 
again. 

She  rang  for  Dilly,  a  passion  of  energy  in  the  pres- 
sure of  her  fingers  on  the  white-enamelled  button  in  the 
wall. 

"  Dilly,"  she  said,  when  the  handmaiden  arrived  in 
haste  —  and   her  voice   had  the   ring   of   new   bells  — 
"  draw  me  the  coldest  bath  you  ever  saw,  find  me  some 
riding  things,  and  tell  some  one  to  saddle  Phantom  and 
have  him  at  the  door  in  half  an  hour." 

Dilly  stood  astonished  at  this  command,  at  the  fire 
of  tone  and  look,  but  her  protests  that  it  was  too  raw 
a  day,  that  the  roads  were  icy  and  her  pet  not  well 
enough  for  such  violent  exercise,  were  utterly  disre- 
garded by  the  "  pet."  Harriet  was  usually  expeditious 
in  getting  dressed,  but  to-day  she  surpassed  herself. 
Her  cold  plunge  was  the  matter  of  a  minute,  and  she 
was  braiding  her  heavy  hair,  doubling  and  tying  it, 
when  Dilly  returned  from  a  trip  to  the  camphor  closet 
with  her  riding  things. 

The  girl  laughed  as  the  little  dumpy  woman  entered, 
her  arms  full  of  black  cloth  habit,  riding  boots  jammed 

[332] 


The  House  of  the  Interpreter 

under  her  chin,  and  a  derby  hat  at  a  rakish  angle  on 
her  old  gray  head. 

"  If  you  could  see  how  you  looked,  Dilly !  Like  a 
regular  old  sport ! "  she  cried. 

Dilly  smiled  as  if  complimented. 

"  It  was  the  only  way  I  could  get  them  all  down  to 
oncet,"  she  said. 

She  and  Maggie  watched  Harriet  ride  off,  a  slim  dark 
figure  with  a  peach-blow  china  chin  that  made  a  daz- 
zling linen  stock  beneath  it  less  dazzling  —  on  a  slim 
dark  horse. 

"  Is  n't  she  the  brave  gurrl ! "  said  Maggie  to  Dilly, 
her  huge  mouth  wide  with  admiration. 

"  Her  heart 's  begun  to  mend,"  said  Dilly  to  Maggie ; 
"  you  can  see  that  without  looking ! "  And  both 
nodded  their  heads  wisely. 

It  was  by  no  means  a  perfect  day  for  riding.  The 
sky  hugged  the  earth  except  for  a  bright  streak  that 
circled  the  horizon  like  light  under  the  edge  of  a  circus 
tent,  and  a  turbulent  wind,  resenting  its  despotic  com- 
pass, hurried  about  as  if  striving  to  find  a  place  of 
escape.  But  unpleasant  as  it  was,  the  day  held  no  threat 
for  Harriet.  She  was  glad,  on  the  contrary,  to  find  it 
so  aggressive,  and  she  told  Phantom  in  an  exuberant, 
satisfied  voice  that  she  loved  "  weather."  The  sense  of 
exerting  her  will  again,  if  it  were  only  in  resisting  the 
influence  of  an  unpropitious  day,  was  a  tonic  to  her, 
and  the  sense  of  freedom  from  the  tyranny  of  the  mind 
to  which  she  had  been  so  much  a  slave  of  late  made  her 
spirit  soar. 

[333] 


The  Politician 

She  lifted  the  tall  hunter  into  a  gallop,  heading  him 
west  over  the  lowland  lying  directly  behind  her  home; 
Phantom  responding,  took  the  road  into  his  confidence, 
promised  to  stay  by  it  as  a  true  horse  should,  patted  it, 
played  with  it,  teased  it  prettily,  and  then  with  fine 
faithlessness,  spurned  it  utterly,  and  barely  touching  it 
with  his  proud  feet,  advanced  in  a  series  of  great  bounds 
that  proved  his  natural  element  the  air,  and  all  winged 
things  his  kin.  Harriet's  delight  in  the  motion  was 
keener  than  it  had  ever  been  before.  Turning  in  h°r 
saddle,  she  waved  a  defiant  farewell  to  dull  care,  nor 
did  she  draw  rein  until  the  big  veins  on  Phantom's  neck 
had  begun  to  stand  out  like  a  bas-relief  map,  and  the 
good  sweat  had  metamorphosed  his  dark  skin  into  glis- 
tening black  satin. 

She  had  ridden  two  or  three  miles  when  she  turned 
south  on  a  road  with  which  she  was  not  familiar.  On 
both  sides  of  it  lay  a  flat  expanse  of  low  land,  treeless 
and  fenceless  and  covered  with  short  yellow  grass  that 
was  almost  dead.  To  her  left  at  the  roadside  where 
enormous  straw-stacks  stood  sheltered  by  some  trees,  a 
wagon  track  led  out  into  this  open  land,  used  doubtless 
by  the  farmers  to  get  in  hay.  The  prospect  of  a  gallop 
across  country  appealed  to  the  girl  on  horseback  as  she 
surveyed  the  level,  grass-covered  expanse,  as  an  attract- 
ive substitute  for  the  trammelled  pleasures  of  the  road, 
and  she  turned  Phantom  eagerly  into  the  wagon  track. 

It  had  been  a  very  rainy  October  in  Lake  Forest, 
although  of  this  Harriet  was  unaware,  but  the  night's 
frost  had  hardened  and  the  wind  had  dried  it  to  such 

[334] 


The  House  of  the  Interpreter 

an  extent  that  she  did  not  at  first  discover  its  real  con- 
dition, and  did  not  hesitate  to  ride  at  a  brisk  canter. 
Much  to  her  disappointment,  however,  it  grew  softer 
and  softer  as  she  proceeded,  until  she  was  presently 
obliged  to  slow  down  to  a  walk  and  pick  her  way  rather 
carefully ;  and  before  many  minutes  had  passed  patches 
of  water  appeared  here  and  there,  the  tops  of  the  grass 
just  showing  through  them. 

She  began  to  see  that  her  cross-country  ride  was  not 
going  to  be  so  pleasant  as  she  had  thought,  and  that 
instead  of  the  springy  turf  she  had  hoped  to  find  she 
was  encountering  muddy  bottomland.  She  wondered  if 
she  had  not  better  turn  back;  but  on  looking  behind 
her  she  realized  that  it  would  be  just  about  as  far  to 
retrace  her  steps  as  to  go  on  until  she  reached  a  line 
of  trees  some  distance  away,  which  she  felt  sure  fringed 
the  edge  of  another  road  running  parallel  to  the  one 
she  had  left ;  and  then,  too,  it  seemed  so  ignominious  to 
go  back,  so  much  more  like  giving  up.  Miss  Rand  was 
constitutionally  averse  to  giving  up.  She  kept  on  hop- 
ing that  the  ground  would  improve.  Instead  of  im- 
proving, however,  it  treacherously  and  ruthlessly  pro- 
ceeded to  belie  her  faith  in  it  and  grew,  with  each  step 
the  snorting  Phantom  took,  softer  and  blacker. 

A  thin  glaze  of  ice  developed  the  trying  habit  of 
appearing  on  certain  boggy  holes  and  of  concealing 
their  depth,  and  the  patches  of  water  grew  more  and 
more  frequent.  Phantom  did  n't  like  it  at  all,  and 
showed  his  dislike  by  blowing  apprehensively  through 
his  nostrils  and  lifting  his  feet  with  deliberate  caution. 

[335] 


The  Politician 

He  was  a  dainty  beast  and  jealous  of  his  white  pasterns 
and  black  oiled  hoofs.  His  rider  had  much  ado  to  get 
him  along,  and  it  was  only  by  keeping  up  the  constant 
iteration  of  a  cheery  "  Come,  boy,  come ! "  that  she 
managed  to  keep  him  moving.  She  knew  he  had  a  child's 
faith  in  the  sound  of  her  voice.  But  in  spite  of  the 
increasing  difficulty  of  proceeding  she  still  thought  it 
was  foolish  to  go  back.  The  trees  were  so  much  nearer 
now,  she  felt  confident  she  would  soon  reach  the  other 
road. 

In  this  expectation,  however,  she  was  shortly  disap- 
pointed, for  thirty  yards  or  so  from  the  trees,  further 
progress  was  impeded  by  a  swath  of  black  mud  so  wide 
and  so  threatening  in  aspect  that  Harriet  dared  not 
cross  it.  She  looked  back  rather  desperately,  for  the 
thought  of  retracing  her  steps  now,  all  that  long  weary 
way  that  she  had  won  with  such  effort,  made  her  heart 
sink.  The  road  she  had  left  seemed  very  far  away 
indeed.  She  could  only  tell  where  it  was  by  the  hay- 
stacks she  had  thought  so  large  then,  and  which  now 
seemed  like  so  many  thimbles.  With  her  head  turned 
over  her  shoulder  she  sat  as  motionless  as  the  pillar  of 
salt  into  which  Lot's  inquisitive  spouse  was  turned,  and 
longed  with  all  her  heart  to  be  back  on  that  fair  high- 
way that  she  had  deserted  in  her  pride.  How  foolish 
she  had  been !  If  only  she  had  known  how  faithless  the 
new  love  was  going  to  prove,  she  would  never  have  for- 
saken the  old  with  such  recklessness. 

Wishing  could  not  remedy  her  rashness,  however, 
and  sighing  she  withdrew  her  gaze  from  the  coveted 

[336] 


The  House  of  the  Interpreter 

haystacks  and  began  following  the  swath  of  mud  in 
the  hope  of  finding  a  place  to  cross.  She  was  a  long 
time  finding  it,  but  the  stretch  of  mud  dwindled  pres- 
ently into  a  succession  of  spots,  and  at  length  she  was 
able  to  pick  her  way  over  it  in  safety. 

The  patch  of  ground  between  her  and  the  row  of 
willow  trees  was  traversed  as  quickly  as  its  spongy  con- 
dition would  permit,  and  Harriet  eagerly  surmounted 
the  bank  on  which  the  trees  stood  only  to  find  on  the 
other  side  instead  of  a  road,  a  ditch  of  water  some  six 
feet  wide  and  Heaven  only  knew  how  deep.  The  dis- 
appointment was  a  terrible  one.  It  was  getting  so  late 
and  she  was  so  tired  of  mud  and  water  and  of  her 
horse's  uncertain  steps,  and  she  had  counted  so  on  find- 
ing a  road !  Must  she  go  back,  after  all  ? 

She  looked  behind  her  again  and  shivered.  Mist  had 
begun  to  roll  up  over  the  bottomland  and  she  could  not 
see  her  lighthouse  —  the  haystacks  —  any  more,  and 
she  realized  with  a  sense  of  shock,  that  she  had  n't  any 
idea  in  which  direction  lay  the  road!  The  late  sun  lit 
with  its  frosty  gleam  so  much  level,  water-covered  land, 
it  was  all  so  much  alike,  she  could  n't  remember  at 
what  point  she  had  entered  upon  it.  Absurd  as  it 
seemed,  she  was  lost  within  a  mile  of  a  public  highway, 
within  five  miles  of  her  own  home,  on  a  stretch  of  boggy 
pastureland  where  nobody  doubtless  had  ever  been  lost 
before. 

Trying  to  ignore  the  panic  that  was  beginning  to 
rise  in  her  heart,  she  walked  her  horse  slowly  down 
stream  in  an  attempt  to  find  a  better  place  to  cross,  his 
22  [  337  ] 


The  Politician 

hoofs  crashing  through  thin  ice  into  unsuspected  holes 
at  every  step.  Ugly  clouds,  gliding  one  after  another, 
Indian  file,  effaced  the  sun.  A  large  white  bird,  with 
black  tips  to  his  wings,  of  a  species  unknown  to  Har- 
riet, flying  very  near  the  ground,  executed  a  number  of 
difficult  manoeuvres,  with  the  conscious  grace  of  an  ac- 
complished skater  cutting  figure-eights,  and  settled  at 
last  on  a  mound  of  earth  not  far  from  her.  It  lent  the 
last  touch  to  Harriet's  sense  of  the  unreality  of  it  all, 
and  she  felt  that  if  she  cried  out  suddenly  she  would 
wake  and  find  it  only  a  nightmare.  If  she  had  been 
lost  "  miles  from  any  human  habitation  "  as  good  Sir 
Walter  would  say,  "  on  a  Scottish  moor,  with  night 
coming  on,"  instead  of  at  about  six  o'clock  of  an  after- 
noon in  a  stretch  of  open  country  that  could  not  have 
exceeded  in  dimensions  two  miles  square,  she  could  not 
have  felt  more  bewildered. 

A  narrower  part  of  the  stream,  however,  she  did  at 
length  discover,  and  she  and  Phantom  faced  it 
desperately.  On  the  other  side  of  it,  directly  in  front 
of  them,  another  expanse  of  watery  waste  extended,  but 
over  to  the  right  the  ground  was  much  higher,  and  she 
saw  farm  lands  reclaimed  from  the  marshes  by  delightful 
looking  fences,  with  a  grove  of  trees  in  the  immediate 
foreground  and  in  the  distance,  oh,  rapturous  sight ! 
the  gray  roofs  of  farm  buildings.  People  were  over 
there,  nice,  safe,  good  people,  who  would  love  to  com- 
fort her  and  do  things  for  her  if  only  she  could  get 
to  them ! 

She  would  get  to  them,  and  very  quickly,  for  she  was 
[338] 


The  House  of  the  Interpreter 

very  tired  and  wanted  to  rest.  But  first  that  stream 
must  be  crossed.  She  rather  dreaded  the  cold  water, 
but  it  couldn't  be  very  deep  she  thought,  just  a  ditch, 
though  a  thin  coating  of  ice  on  top  of  it  completely 
disguised  its  real  depth. 

"  In  we  go,  Phantom  dear,"  she  said ;  and  the 
thoroughbred  obediently  plunged  into  the  water. 

To  Harriet's  consternation  it  proved  much  deeper 
than  she  had  expected,  for  it  came  as  high  as  the  saddle, 
and  what  was  worse,  there  seemed  to  be  at  least  three 
feet  of  mud  beneath  it.  Phantom  strove  gallantly  to 
pull  himself  and  his  rider  through  it  and  out  on  the 
other  side,  but  he  only  seemed  to  sink  deeper  with  every 
plunge.  The  water  came  sloughing  up  into  the  girl's 
lap  now  and  she  began  to  think  she  had  better  climb 
off  the  horse's  back  and  give  him  a  chance  to  extricate 
himself  unimpeded  by  her  weight. 

She  did  not  much  fancy  struggling  through  three 
feet  of  mud  and  water  in  her  soaked  riding-skirt,  even 
though  she  knew  it  was  not  deep  enough  to  drown  her; 
but  it  began  to  seem  expedient,  for  Phantom  in  his 
efforts  to  get  out  of  the  ditch  had  only  succeeded  in 
miring  himself  more  thoroughly  than  ever.  It  was  a 
dismal  plight  to  be  in,  but  help  was  close  at  hand. 

In  a  paddock  just  the  other  side  of  the  clump  of 
trees  that  effectually  screened  it  from  sight,  was  a  small 
training-ring,  around  which  a  man  in  riding  things  had 
been  driving  a  young  horse,  when  he  suddenly  discovered 
from  the  vantage  point  of  his  seat  in  the  sulky,  the 
unfortunate  predicament  of  the  horse  and  rider  who, 

[339] 


The  Politician 

his  groom  had  told  him,  had  been  wandering  about  on 
the  muddy  marshland  for  the  last  half -hour.  He  lost 
no  time  in  going  to  the  rescue  —  more  especially  since 
he  realized  as  he  ran  that  the  luckless  rider  was  a  woman. 

"  Hang  on,  I  'm  coming,"  he  shouted,  as  he  saw 
her  make  a  movement  to  dismount,  and  when  he  had 
reached  the  spot,  "  Harrie !  "  he  cried,  "  by  all  that 's 
wonderful ! " 

At  any  other  time  if  she  had  been  her  sane,  sensible 
self  and  not  somewhat  unnerved  by  her  rather  trying 
experience,  she  would  have  been  very  much  surprised 
to  perceive  that  her  rescuer  was  George  Benton,  and 
would  have  wondered  much  how  he  happened  to  be  in 
that  out-of-the-way  spot  just  then,  but  it  did  not  occur 
to  Harriet  at  the  moment  that  it  was  at  all  extraor- 
dinary. It  only  seemed  a  part  of  her  strange  adventure 
and  quite  in  keeping  with  its  dreamlike  aspect,  to  find 
his  familiar  face  —  red  from  anxiety  and  running,  the 
eye-glasses  pushed  awry  —  gazing  at  her  in  astonish- 
ment from  the  top  of  the  bank  she  and  Phantom  had 
failed  to  surmount. 

But  he  did  not  waste  many  seconds  in  wondering  how 
she  got  there  and  where  she  came  from. 

"  Hold  on ! "  he  reiterated,  and  sliding  down  the 
bank,  waded  into  the  water  up  to  the  top  of  his  puttees 
and  placed  a  firm  hand  on  Phantom's  bit,  who  instantly 
ceased  plunging. 

Benton's  touch  and  voice  always  had  upon  horses 
the  effect  of  inspiring  confidence,  and  the  animal,  with 
his  help,  was  very  soon  able  to  scramble  out  of  the  ditch. 

[340] 


The  House  of  the  Interpreter 

"  Thanks,"  said  Harriet  politely,  much  as  if  he  had 
given  her  his  arm  over  a  crossing.  She  was  not  un- 
grateful, but  very  tired,  and  he  was  too  intent  on 
getting  her  back  to  solid  ground  to  notice  what  she 
said.  When  they  reached  the  roadway  where  stood 
the  sulky  which  he  had  left  so  hurriedly,  with  the  groom 
at  the  horse's  head,  he  lifted  the  girl,  whose  exhaustion 
had  not  escaped  him,  without  ceremony  from  the  saddle 
and  into  the  trap,  and  then  got  in  himself. 

"  Take  Miss  Rand's  horse  to  the  stable  as  quick  as 
you  can,  and  see  that  he  gets  a  thorough  rub-down 
and  a  feed,"  he  said  to  the  man.  Then  he  drove 
rapidly  off  in  the  direction  of  the  gray  roofs  Harriet 
had  noticed  and  yearned  for  from  the  other  side  of 
the  ditch,  and  which  she  now  knew  belonged  to  Benton's 
stock  farm.  That  she  had  not  recognized  it  before 
was  owing  to  her  novel  and  unusual  method  of  approach- 
ing it. 

The  drive  up  through  the  pastures  to  Benton's 
handsome  brick  residence,  artistically  modelled  on  the 
farmhouse  style  as  to  exterior,  but  thoroughly  modern 
and  luxurious  as  to  interior,  did  not  take  five  minutes, 
and  by  the  time  they  reached  its  wide  white,  brass- 
knockered  door  and  hospitable  front  porch,  Harriet 
had  explained  to  him  how  it  was  that  the  necessity  of 
closing  the  house  in  Lake  Forest  for  the  winter  had 
brought  her  West  for  a  week  (the  man  was  too  ac- 
customed to  taking  her  word  for  gospel  to  consider  this 
excuse  insufficient),  and  how  a  thoughtless  fancy  for  a 
cross-country  gallop  had  brought  her  to  the  uncom- 

[341] 


The  Politician 

fortable,  if  ridiculous,  plight  from  which  he  had  so 
opportunely  rescued  her.  And  he  had  explained  in  his 
turn  how  it  was  that  he  had  chanced  to  see  horse  and 
rider  struggling  in  the  ditch,  and  his  surprise  when  he 
had  discovered  who  the  rider  was. 

Upon  entering  the  house,  Benton's  housekeeper  and 
distant  cousin,  Mrs.  Pratt,  took  charge  of  Harriet  and 
helped  her  to  remove  her  wet  riding-skirt  and  splashed 
coat  before  a  fire  in  an  upstairs  room.  The  good  lady 
was  very  kind  and  urged  the  loan  of  a  black  silk  dress 
upon  her  guest,  until  her  own  things  should  have  dried ; 
but  the  girl  declined  the  offer,  declaring  that  her  boots 
would  muddy  it,  and  that  a  long  coat  of  some  sort 
over  her  riding-breeches  and  linen  waist  was  all  she 
needed.  Whereupon  a  covert  driving-coat  belonging 
to  the  master  of  the  house  was  produced,  which  covered 
Harriet  almost  to  her  heels,  and  in  which  she  clattered 
joyously  downstairs  to  the  dining-room  where  Benton 
and  a  supper  which  the  young  man  had  ordered  made 
ready  at  once,  awaited  her.  All  her  old  spirits  had  re- 
turned to  her  by  this  time.  The  anxiety  incident  to 
her  adventure  was  forgotten,  and  she  was  gloriously 
hungry. 

"  I  know  you  're  having  dinner  early  just  on  my 
account,"  she  said,  as  they  sat  down,  flashing  an  ap- 
preciative glance  at  her  host,  "  but  I  'm  glad  of  it ; 
I  'm  simply  starved !  " 

"  Not  so  very.  I  have  it  early  myself  in  the  country. 
And  it  is  n't  dinner,  it 's  supper.  I  'm  very  much  of  a 
farmer,  you  know." 

[342] 


The  House  of  the  Interpreter 

He  smiled  happily  as  he  spoke.  It  was  too  wonder- 
ful to  be  true  that  Harriet  should  be  sitting  opposite 
him  at  his  own  table,  even  if  old  Mrs.  Pratt  was  there 
too,  when  only  a  little  while  ago  he  had  thought  her 
far  away  in  New  York.  In  his  satisfaction  over  this 
miraculous  fact  he  failed  to  see  anything  out  of  the 
way  about  her  costume,  though  the  covert  coat  was  so 
big  for  her  that  she  had  to  turn  back  the  sleeves,  and 
it  trailed  on  the  floor  when  she  sat  down. 

"Isn't  it  becoming?"  she  asked,  inferring  from  his 
prolonged  scrutiny  that  it  was  the  coat  that  had  caught 
his  attention. 

"  What  ?  "  he  asked,  innocent  of  any  other  motive 
for  his  gazing  than  a  desire  to  feast  upon  the  sight  of 
her;  and  understanding  this  suddenly,  she  laughed 
pleasedly. 

She  was  enjoying  the  whole  thing  exceedingly,  the 
old-fashioned  dining-room  —  painstakingly  old-fash- 
ioned, with  the  very  best  old-fashionedness  that  money 
could  buy,  beamed  ceiling,  mullioned  windows,  china 
cupboards  and  all,  that  its  owner  had  had  copied  from 
an  old  New  England  farmhouse, —  the  unshaded  can- 
dles on  the  dark  shining  surface  of  the  table,  the  de- 
licious cold  chicken,  tender  salad,  and  hot  tea,  and  the 
aged  domestic  whose  partiality  for  her  master  was  so 
great  that  she  insisted  upon  passing  everything  to  him 
first,  causing  that  gentleman  such  embarrassment. 

As  for  Benton  himself,  her  heart  had  never  been  so 
warm  toward  him.  Had  n't  he  as  much  as  saved  her 
life?  And  dear  me,  how  good  everything  tasted! 

[343] 


The  Politician 

She  only  hoped,  and  expressed  as  much  to  the  other 
two  at  the  table,  that  Phantom  was  enjoying  his  oats 
as  much  as  she  enjoyed  her  supper.  What  was  the 
aged  domestic  bringing  in  now? 

She  turned  around  in  her  chair  with  a  childish 
eagerness  which  Benton  —  with  whom  she  had  always 
been  at  her  gravest  and  most  dignified  —  had  never 
seen  her  display  before,  and  thought  utterly  fascinat- 
ing. 

"  Honey ! "  she  cried,  gazing  with  rapture  at  the 
crystal  bowl  of  golden  translucence  that  was  passed 
to  her.  "  Hot  biscuits  and  honey !  O  Georgie,  what 
a  nice  boy  you  are ! " 

"  It 's  from  my  own  apiaries,"  he  said,  flushing  with 
pleasure  at  her  pleasure ;  "  I  knew  you  liked  it !  " 

After  supper  Harriet  donned  her  skirt  and  coat,  now 
quite  dry  and  beautifully  brushed,  and  Benton  drove 
her  home  in  a  runabout.  The  distance  between  their 
homes  was  quite  five  miles  by  the  road,  but  somehow 
on  this  occasion,  and  this  had  not  always  been  the  case 
on  similar  ones,  it  seemed  as  short  to  Harriet  as  to  him. 

That  evening  as  she  made  ready  for  bed,  rather 
early,  for  the  day's  events  had  tired  her,  she  regaled 
Dilly,  who  was  assisting  in  the  ceremony,  with  an  ac- 
count of  her  adventure,  between  little  bursts  of  song. 

But  Dilly,  who  was  by  nature  a  pessimist,  and  proud 
of  it,  though  she  acknowledged  her  delight  that  so 
much  of  her  pet's  old  spirit  had  seemed  to  return, 
was  not  at  all  certain  that  the  advent  of  George  Ben- 

[344] 


The  House  of  the  Interpreter 

ton  as  a  factor  in  Harriet's  recovery  of  it,  was  to  be 
regarded  with  any  confidence. 

"  That 's  all  very  well,  but  just  the  same,  Miss 
Harrie,  I  hope  you  're  not  going  to  be  foolish  enough 
to  trust  a  man  again !  I  would  n't  trust  one  "  —  if 
she  had  been  a  French  marquise  who  had  dealt  with 
countless  lovers  in  her  time,  this  funny  dumpy  little 
woman  with  the  pursed  mouth  and  tight-screwed  hair 
could  hardly  have  spoken  with  an  air  of  more  experience 
—  "  around  the  corner  as  long  as  he  was  able  to  sit  up 
and  blow  a  feather  off  the  table ! " 

But  Harriet's  surprising  answer  to  this  bit  of  un- 
compromising scepticism  was  a  joyous  laugh.  In  the 
young,  not  time  but  perfect  health  is  the  most  potent 
quantity  in  the  healing  of  a  broken  heart. 

After  that  they  rode  every  day  of  the  remainder  of 
the  week,  she  and  George  Benton,  and  the  amount  of 
time  she  devoted  to  meditating  upon  her  disappoint- 
ment, and  to  arguing  herself  out  of  the  idea  that  her 
life  without  Verney  Ellis  was  going  to  mean  nothing 
but  unhappiness  for  her,  grew  less  and  less. 

On  the  last  day  of  her  stay  in  Lake  Forest,  as  they 
were  riding  together  for  the  last  time  before  her  depar- 
ture for  New  York  that  afternoon,  George  Benton,  as 
was  quite  proper  and  fitting,  asked  her  again  if  she 
wouldn't  marry  him.  He  had  not  asked  her  before, 
fearing  to  end  those  precious  days  with  her  prema- 
turely, as  her  refusal  of  him  must  have  done.  They 
were  riding  up  the  beautiful  winding  drive  that 

[345] 


The  Politician 

approached  Mrs.  Cumloch's  country  house  through 
the  park  she  had  had  laid  out. 

"  Could  n't  you  possibly  think  of  it?  "  he  said.  "  I  'm 
a  lazy,  good-for-nothing  fellow,  I  know,  with  nothing 
to  interest  myself  in  but  my  horses,  but  I  'd  try  awfully 
hard  to  make  you  happy." 

He  reached  over  and  closed  his  right  hand  over  one 
of  hers,  reins  and  all. 

She  turned  the  deep  gaze  of  the  Madonna  eyes  he 
worshipped  upon  him,  soberly,  consideringly,  silently. 
She  thought  he  had  never  come  so  near  being  hand- 
some, with  the  flush  of  honest  feeling  in  his  face,  the 
faithful  eyes  dim  behind  their  glasses,  and  his  broad- 
shouldered,  thin  figure  that  never  looked  so  well  as  in  the 
saddle. 

"  I  love  you  so  very  much ! "  he  said,  when  he  had 
waited  a  moment  for  her  reply. 

Ah!  That  was  what  she  had  wanted  to  hear,  and 
he  had  nearly  made  the  mistake  of  not  telling  her,  in 
his  fear  that  she  had  heard  it  so  often  she  would  not 
care  to  hear  it  again. 

Her  delicate  skin  took  on  a  deeper  bloom.  Her 
spirit  answered  gratefully  to  that  simple  statement, 
warmed  to  it,  and  clung  to  it.  Certainly  it  was  a 
wonderful  thing  to  be  loved,  and  by  a  man  she  thought 
as  much  of  as  she  did  of  the  one  who  was  pleading 
with  her  now. 

There  was,  too,  a  new  masterfulness  about  his  plead- 
ing that  she  liked,  that  had  never  been  there  before 
though  he  had  asked  her  that  question  a  great  many 

[346] 


The  House  of  the  Interpreter 

times,  and  that  was  the  result  of  the  something  new 
that  had  characterized  their  intimacy  of  the  past  few 
days,  of  that  atmosphere  of  hope  which  had  been  cast 
about  those  delightful  hours  together  which  had  been 
granted  George  Benton,  he  knew,  by  special  dispensation 
of  Providence!  It  is  a  well-known  fact  that  the  man 
who  asks  knowing  that  he  has  a  chance,  is  a  different 
creature  from  the  man  who  asks  knowing  he  has  none. 
There  is  a  ring  and  a  way  about  the  first  that  goes 
far  toward  getting  him  what  he  wants.  At  least  it  had 
that  effect  now,  in  Benton's  case. 

Harriet  turned  her  fingers  under  the  possessive  hand 
that  covered  hers,  and  clasped  his  rather  tightly. 

"  You  've  asked  me  that  a  great  many  times,  George," 
she  said,  "  and  I  've  said  '  No '  a  great  many  times. 
But  now  —  but  now  —  " 

She  took  her  hand  from  him  and  regarded  him  with 
a  touching  expression  of  confidence,  of  affection,  and 
of  shy  gladness. 

"  Although  I  can't  say  '  yes,'  I  won't " —  very 
slowly  —  "  say  '  no.' ' 

Touching  her  horse  with  her  spur,  she  rode  off  at 
a  gallop  toward  the  house,  leaving  behind  her  an  in- 
credulous, much  amazed  man  with  a  hope  in  his  heart 
*  that  he  would  not  have  exchanged  for  any  certainty 
in  the  world  —  except  one. 


[347] 


CHAPTER  XX 


MEANWHILE  the  Republican  State  Cam- 
paign, which  was  Verney's  especial  care  and 
chief  interest,  was  becoming  with  each  day 
more  engrossing.  As  a  stone  that  is  sent  rolling  down  a 
hill  increases  its  momentum  with  every  turn,  so  the  cam- 
paign gathered  impetus  as  it  neared  election  day. 

The  papers  had  more  and  more  to  say  about  the 
Republican  candidate  for  Governor,  one  day  picturing 
him  addressing  a  village  audience  in  "  characteristic 
attitude,"  and  the  next  devoting  a  column  to  a  review 
of  his  political  career,  under  some  such  heading  as 
"  prominent  in  politics  at  thirty-four."  And  with 
him  the  Republican  candidate  for  Attorney-general 
was  often  named. 

Even  in  the  last  week  the  Democratic  candidate  for 
Governor  had  lost  his  old  position  as  a  five  to  four 
favorite.  Everywhere  Ordway  money  had  become  more 
abundant  and  aggressive.  In  the  Wall  Street  district 
it  was  nine  to  ten  on  the  curb,  and  on  the  Stock 
Exchange  it  was  being  offered  at  nine  to  ten  without 
takers.  The  odds  on  the  young  candidate  were  length- 
ening all  the  time,  as  his  sane,  practical  policies  were 
unfolded  in  his  speeches  and  his  unrevolutionary  atti- 

[348] 


Verney  Loses  His  Temper 

tude  was  made   clear  toward  such  questions  as  direct 
primaries  and  public  service  commissions. 

To  the  former  he  was  opposed,  characterizing  the 
system  of  direct  nomination  as  an  experiment  which 
appeared  to  contain  evils  as  great  as  those  of  the 
present  system.  While  he  acknowledged  that  the  pur- 
pose of  the  direct  nomination  plan  was  commendable, 
to  give  members  of  the  party  at  large  a  greater  share 
in  the  choice  of  the  party's  nominees  and  to  put  an 
end  to  corrupt  boss  domination,  he  maintained  that  it 
had  not  worked  out  that  way  in  other  States  where  it 
had  been  in  use.  It  had  resulted  in  increasing  the 
power  of  money  in  politics,  he  said,  by  making  neces- 
sary the  expenditure  of  large  sums  at  the  primaries,  and 
had  doubled  the  labor  of  election  to  office  by  necessi- 
tating two  campaigns  instead  of  one;  and  in  this  con- 
nection —  since  it  is  true  the  man  must  seek  the  office, 
not  the  office  the  man  —  it  had  acted  as  a  deterrent  to 
the  entry  of  the  best  men  into  public  life.  He  said  too 
that  he  could  not  endorse  the  system  because  he  regarded 
it  as  an  obstacle  to  organization,  inasmuch  as  the  party 
would  find  it  difficult  to  act  under  it  for  the  purpose 
of  fusion  with  other  parties,  or  for  the  suitable  dis- 
tribution of  offices  among  localities  or  groups  in  the 
party.  Also,  with  direct  primaries  there  was  the  possi- 
bility, as  had  been  proved  in  other  States,  of  nomina- 
tions being  made  by  a  minority  of  the  party,  while 
he  himself  believed  in  the  convention  system  of  nom- 
inating in  which  the  majority  ruled  and  where  repre- 
sentation was  by  delegates.  As  for  abuses  in  party 

[349] 


The  Politician 

management,  the  existence  of  which  he  did  not 
deny,  he  was  convinced  they  could  be  corrected. 

He  was  opposed  also  to  the  public  service  commis- 
sions as  a  means  of  regulating  public  affairs,  and  on 
the  ground  that  their  continued  and  indiscriminate  use 
would  result  in  a  government  by  commissions  instead 
of  by  the  officers  elected  under  the  Constitution.  He 
was  quoted  as  'saying,  however,  that  he  believed  a  cer- 
tain amount  of  regulation  was  necessary,  and  that  if 
he  should  come  into  office  he  would  recommend  to  the 
Legislature  the  retention  of  the  commission  system  in- 
augurated by  the  preceding  Governor  for  some  time 
longer,  in  order  to  give  it  every  chance  of  proving  its 
efficiency  in  that  respect,  although  he  would  at  the 
same  time  endeavor  to  limit  the  commissions  so  as  to 
render  them  less  expensive  and  more  quick  to  act. 

Ordway  announced  himself  in  short  as  being  for  less 
legislation  on  new  and  untried  lines,  and  less  interfer- 
ence with  personal  and  economic  liberty;  and  these 
doctrines  (which  were  identical  with  those  Verney  fa- 
vored and  which  constituted  his  reason,  apart  from 
personal  friendship,  for  desiring  Ordway's  election) 
the  young  candidate  was  endeavoring  to  disseminate 
throughout  the  State  and  in  Manhattan.  As  they 
struck  the  keynote  of  the  temperate  and  neutral  mass 
of  voters  who  form  a  class  between  the  two  extremes 
of  the  reformers  and  the  indifferent,  he  was  winning  to 
himself  many  adherents.  Speaking  in  opera  houses, 
townhalls,  and  often  from  the  end  of  a  railroad  car, 
he  had  travelled  from  one  town  to  another,  spreading 

[350] 


Verney  Loses  His  Temper 

the  gospel  of  Republicanism  as  he  saw  it,  and  meeting 
everywhere  with  an  enthusiastic  reception. 

A  ten-o'clock  meeting  at  Fredonia  filled  the  opera 
house  to  overflowing,  and  hundreds  were  unable  to  get 
in.  At  Oswego  he  was  met  by  a  company  of  militia, 
from  which  place  he  went  by  automobile  to  the  mills 
across  the  river,  where  he  made  a  brief  out-of-doors 
address  to  hundreds  of  the  operatives.  At  Syracuse, 
although  he  did  not  speak,  he  kept  open  house  in  the 
car  and  shook  hands  with  a  great  number  of  people. 
Practically  the  whole  town  of  Batavia,  where  he  gave  a 
five-minute  talk  from  the  platform,  turned  out  to  greet 
him;  and  at  Dunkirk,  when  his  train  pulled  into  the 
depot  one  night  at  about  eight  o'clock,  he  found  a 
typical  election-time  throng  of  people  filling  the 
streets,  cheering  and  burning  red  fire. 

On  some  of  these  occasions,  Verney,  who  accompanied 
Ordway  on  his  campaign  tour,  was  the  principal  speaker ; 
but  during  the  three  days  wlich  the  candidate  for 
Governor  had  reserved  for  campaigning  in  Manhattan, 
the  young  men  worked  separately,  addressing  inde- 
pendent audiences.  The  Politician  was  confident  of 
success,  at  least,  of  his  friend's  success. 

"  Of  course  we  Jll  win,"  he  told  Ordway  confidently  one 
day.  "  The  national  ticket  and  the  State  ticket  are  sure 
to  be  victorious.  The  head  of  each,  at  least,  I  mean," 
he  added,  smiling  at  the  other.  "Wall  Street  shows 
plainly  enough  which  way  the  wind  is  blowing;  stocks 
are  holding  firm,  and  people  aren't  a  bit  excited,  just 
waiting,  that 's  all." 

[351] 


The  Politician 

And  indications  seemed  to  justify  his  optimism.  A 
triple  canvass  of  the  same  districts  by  different  per- 
sons had  been  made  by  an  enterprising  voting  league, 
and  from  the  result  of  this  poll  it  seemed  that  Ordway 
would  have  only  from  seven  to  eight  votes  on  the 
average  of  each  election  District  behind  the  Republican 
Presidential  candidate.  It  looked  as  if  he  would  be 
elected  Governor  of  New  York  State  by  a  large  major- 
ity, and  that  his  total  vote  would  not  be  likely  to 
fall  behind  the  head  of  the  ticket  to  a  greater  extent 
than  forty  thousand  votes. 

As  for  the  less  important  contest  between  Verney 
and  Billy  Vandewater  for  Attorney-general,  the  chances 
of  each  candidate  seemed  more  nearly  equal.  The 
respective  status  of  each  had  been  clearly  defined  in  the 
public  mind  at  the  beginning  of  the  campaign  by  the 
sobriquets  which  had  been  given  each  by  his  enemies. 
Vandewater*s  good  family,  good  looks,  and  good  money, 
together  with  his  generally  well-dressed  appearance  and 
his  habit  of  riding  to  all  political  meetings  in  a  large 
60-horse-power  motor  car,  had  earned  for  him  that  of 
"  the  silk-stocking  candidate " ;  and  Verney,  in  spite 
of  his  good  family,  and  on  account  of  his  well-known 
position  of  influence  in  the  Republican  party  machine 
(he  had  been  executive  member  of  his  District  for  a 
long  time),  had  become  generally  known  as  "  The 
Politician,"  —  the  same  name  by  which  in  derision  Mrs. 
Presbey  and  others  of  his  family  who  were  not  in 
sympathy  with  his  political  aspirations  were  accustomed 

[352] 


Verney  Loses  His  Temper 

to  call  him,  and  by  which  he  was  known  to  Harriet 
Rand's  tenderest  and  most  admiring  thoughts. 

Yet  each  candidate  had  as  many  friends  as  enemies 
among  the  voting  public  who  adhered  neither  to  one 
party  nor  to  the  other;  for  while  there  were  large 
numbers  of  persons  who  were  irked  by  the  Demo- 
cratic candidate's  habitually  immaculate  appearance, 
his  chauffeur,  and  the  air  of  condescension  which  was 
as  much  a  part  of  him  as  his  dissipated  eyes,  there 
were  a  great  many  who  gloried  in  that  very  conde- 
scension and  boasted  that  "  our  candidate  belongs  to 
one  of  New  York's  oldest  families."  Some  human  be- 
ings seem  naturally  to  thrive  on  boot-licking,  and  among 
these  Vandewater  found  ardent  supporters. 

There  were  also  a  great  number  of  people  who  thought 
Verney's  knowledge  of  affairs,  his  practical  acquaint- 
ance with  politics,  an  advantage  rather  than  a  detriment 
in  the  matter  of  his  proving  an  efficient  Attorney- 
general.  They  thought  a  man  who  was  familiar  with 
the  operation  of  the  voting  system  on  election  days 
would  be  better  able  to  prosecute  cases  having  to  do 
with  illegal  voting, —  and  an  Attorney-general  would  al- 
most certainly  have  to  face  cases  of  that  kind  during 
his  term  of  office, —  than  a  man  who  was  n't. 

Unfortunately,  however,  so  far  as  Verney's  success 
in  the  campaign  was  concerned,  in  elections  the  voters 
who  really  stop  to  consider  the  merits  and  demerits  of 
a  candidate  are  in  the  minority ;  and  the  voters  who 
hurrah  for  the  man  who  seems  the  most  popular,  who 
23  [  353  ] 


The  Politician 

talks  the  loudest  and  sets  up  the  most  drinks  are  in 
the  majority.  On  the  same  principle  that  a  man  at 
a  ball  goes  up  to  ask  for  a  dance  to  the  girl  who  is 
already  surrounded  by  men  instead  of  to  the  one  who 
is  not.  Half  the  time  he  does  n't  really  think  she 's 
so  much  more  attractive  than  her  less  fortunate  sister, 
but  he  goes  because  the  other  men  are  there,  and  he 
wants  to  be  in  the  swim. 

"  Entertaining "  was  certainly  Vandewater's  long 
suit.  He  had  unlimited  private  means,  so  that  his  ac- 
tivities were  not  at  all  restricted  by  the  meagre  sums 
appropriated  by  his  party  for  his  campaign  expenses. 
Halfway  through  the  campaign  it  was  his  boast  that 
he  had  dined  or  lunched  with  every  "  boss "  of  any 
account  in  New  York  City,  and  this  had  kept  him  a  great 
deal  busier  than  in  expounding  the  principles  of 
Democracy. 

Yet,  too,  it  was  generally  conceded  he  made  a  good 
speech.  If  he  did  n't  succeed  in  proving  the  superior- 
ity of  his  party  over  the  other,  or  in  showing  cause 
why  he  should  be  elected  rather  than  his  rival,  he  did 
succeed,  chiefly  on  account  of  the  facility  with  which 
he  kept  an  audience  amused,  in  drawing  large  crowds 
to  hear  him  speak,  and  establishing  a  wide  personal 
popularity.  And  personal  popularity  is  oftentimes  all 
that  is  required  to  elect  a  man. 

This  Verney  knew  very  well,  and  he  was  too  good 
a  politician  not  to  understand  how  great  an  appeal 
Vandewater's  free-handed  generosity  and  his  trick  of 
being  amusing  made  to  the  popular  mind.  That  was 

[354] 


Verney  Loses  His  Temper 

what  made  him  so  anxious  about  the  result  of  the  con- 
test,—  because  he  was  himself  terribly  handicapped  in 
the  first  respect  by  the  shortness  of  his  campaign  funds, 
and  in  the  second  by  his  own  limitations  as  a  speaker. 
It  was  true,  as  he  was  quite  aware,  that  his  very  earn- 
estness prevented  him  from  making  his  speeches  as 
entertaining  as  his  rival's.  He  had  so  much  to  say,  it 
took  so  much  time  to  tell  the  people  what  he  thought 
they  came  to  hear,  what  his  party  was  able  to  do  for 
them,  and  in  what  manner  their  candidate  for  Governor 
and  he  himself  intended  to  serve  them  if  they  had  the 
chance,  that  he  could  n't  find  time  to  drag  in  stories 
for  the  sole  purpose  of  getting  a  laugh.  This  is  not 
to  say  that  he  never  told  them,  but  that  he  did  so  only 
when  they  served  to  illustrate  a  point  and  were  not 
irrelevant.  For  while  he  believed  devoutly  in  the  im- 
portance of  employing  the  right  kind  of  method  to 
gain  attention  for  what  he  said,  he  believed  even  more 
devoutly  in  the  importance  of  having  something  worth 
while  to  say,  and  of  saying  it. 

It  was  on  the  first  night  of  the  three  days  which 
Verney  had  planned  to  devote  exclusively  to  speech- 
making  in  New  York,  that  he  found  he  had  to  address 
the  largest  gathering  he  had  faced  since  the  beginning 
of  the  campaign. 

The  meeting  was  held  in  one  of  the  down-town 
theatres  and  every  possible  device  to  attract  a  crowd 
having  been  employed  by  the  party  managers,  includ- 
ing fireworks  from  the  roof  of  the  building,  three 
blocks  of  red  fire  outside  and  a  brass  band  at  the  door, 

[355] 


The  Politician 

it  was  packed  to  suffocation.  Ellis,  seated  on  the  plat- 
form with  a  large  representation  of  the  political  intel- 
lects of  the  city  headed  by  a  political  club,  looked  about 
with  satisfaction  at  the  well-filled  house,  the  rows  of 
G.  A.  R.  men  in  front,  the  crowded  galleries,  and  the 
women  in  the  stage  boxes.  He  was  n't  fond  of  speak- 
ing, and  he  had  a  poor  opinion  of  his  powers  in  that 
line,  but  he  was  grateful  for  the  sake  of  the  party  he 
represented  that  the  seats  were  all  taken. 

The  president  of  the  political  club  had  just  risen  for 
the  purpose  of  introducing  the  candidate  for  Attorney- 
general  as  the  principal  speaker  of  the  evening,  when 
the  young  man's  eye  caught  sight  of  three  late  arrivals 
entering  the  box  directly  to  the  left  of  the  stage  and 
taking  possession  of  the  remaining  seats  in  it.  They 
were  Mrs.  Cumloch,  Miss  Rand,  and  George  Benton. 

Verney  smiled  faintly.  He  was  glad  Harriet  had 
come.  They  had  not  seen  each  other  since  Mrs.  Ord- 
way's  dinner  party  the  day  after  Harriet's  return  from 
her  week  in  Chicago,  which  Verney  understood  had  to 
do  with  the  necessity  of  closing  the  house  in  Lake 
Forest  for  the  winter.  On  that  occasion  they  sat  side 
by  side  at  the  table  and  talked  to  each  other  as  freely 
and  laughed  as  gayly  as  if  they  had  never  in  their  lives 
known  an  unhappy  moment  together,  as  if  the  golden 
thread  of  their  feeling  for  each  other  had  never  been 
abruptly  broken,  as  if  the  voice  of  fate  —  which  was 
in  Verney's  case  the  voice  of  ambition  whether  unsel- 
fish or  not  —  had  not  said  to  them  "  Stop !  Thus  far 

[356] 


Verney  Loses  His  Temper 

and  no  farther.  Hereafter  your  ways  must  be 
separate  ways." 

As  for  George  Benton's  presence  in  the  box,  it  was 
easily  explained.  He  was  a  man  of  quick  action  when 
once  aroused,  and  acting  at  once  on  the  hope  Harriet 
had  held  out  to  him  when  they  parted  in  Lake  Forest, 
he  had  followed  her  to  New  York  on  the  next  train. 
His  sudden  arrival  had  greatly  surprised  Mrs.  Cumloch, 
who  was  unable  to  keep  herself  from  building  all  sorts 
of  air  castles  on  the  strength  of  it.  She  did  not  quite 
dare,  however,  to  question  her  niece,  and  the  less  so  a^ 
Harriet  seemed  to  take  Benton's  arrival  as  a  matter 
of  course.  The  week  following  had  seen  the  young  man 
from  Chicago  in  the  role  of  the  most  devoted  of  suitors, 
walking  on  the  Avenue  with  Miss  Rand,  motoring  with 
her,  and  going  with  her  to  the  theatre,  though  in  the 
latter  case  Mrs.  Cumloch  invariably  made  one  of  the 
party. 

News  of  this  devotion  of  his  had  been  brought  to 
Verney's  ears  by  Mr.  Vernor,  who  had  never  been  able 
to  break  himself  of  the  habit  of  dropping  in  on  his 
friends  in  Forty-ninth  Street  even  after  the  advent  of  this 
ardent  young  man  from  the  West,  who  seemed  to  be 
thoroughly  at  home  there,  so  that  even  if  Verney  had 
not  remembered  Benton,  whom  he  had  met  in  June  at 
Mrs.  Cumloch's  dinner  in  Lake  Forest,  he  would  have 
known  who  he  was  and  of  his  attentions  to  Harriet. 
He  knew,  too,  and  from  the  same  source  —  for  Rich- 
mond Vernor  had  never  ceased  to  mourn  that  his  nephew 

[357] 


The  Politician 

persisted  so  determinedly  in  refusing  to  take  advantage 
of  his  chance  with  Miss  Rand,  which  the  older  man 
was  as  positive  as  ever  still  existed,  and  to  reproach 
him  for  the  same, —  that  Billy  Vandewater  had  by  no 
means  retired  from  the  running  himself  and,  so  far  as 
his  campaign  activities  would  permit,  had  been  assidu- 
ously pressing  his  suit  with  the  young  heiress  by  means 
of  daily  instalments  of  flowers  and  bonbons  and  flying 
calls  at  her  house  in  his  motor  between  speeches. 

But  these  things  Verney  heard  with  the  mask-like 
calm  and  indifferent  smile  of  the  non-combatant.  The 
news  of  this  ardent  courtship  by  these  rival  suitors  of 
the  girl,  whose  society  he  had  himself  once  sought  with 
the  same  ardor,  concerned  him,  he  felt,  no  more  than 
"  the  thunder  of  the  captains  and  the  shouting "  con- 
cerns the  soldier  in  the  battle  who  lies  dead  under  their 
feet. 

He  was  out  of  the  fight,  he  knew,  and  though  it 
might  be  harder  than  he  thought,  though  it  might  make 
him  suffer  as  he  had  not  thought  of  suffering,  he  must, 
he  knew  equally  well,  remain  so.  He  must  sit  by, 
looking  on  without  lifting  his  hand  to  prevent  it,  until 
the  end  —  until  the  girl  had  promised  to  make  one  or 
the  other  of  the  contestants,  a  happy  man.  That  was 
his  portion  in  life,  that  was  the  part  he  had  elected  to 
play. 

There  were  present,  Verney  saw  as  he  rose  to  begin 
his  speech,  a  number  of  what  the  newspapers  call  society 
people,  most  of  whom  he  knew.  In  one  group  under 
the  chaperonage  of  the  gay  little  Mrs.  de  Albert  he 

[358] 


Verney  Loses  His  Temper 

saw  Gladys  Leverich  and  his  sister  Carol  and  the  two 
young  men  who  had  been  with  Mrs.  Ordway's  party 
at  the  open-air  horse-show,  Robin  Hill  and  Gerald  Mer- 
rick.  In  another  he  recognized  Mrs.  Ordway  herself 
and  two  men  who  had  been  at  college  with  Oliver 
Ordway,  and  who  were  now  his  wife's  almost  constant 
companions.  In  an  upper  box  he  observed  the  beau- 
tiful Mrs.  Gibbs's  plumed  hat  and  long  slender  shoulders 
just  visible  above  its  railings,  and  smiled  to  see  the 
blonde  head  and  boyish  form  of  Stevie  Cass  beside  her. 

"  Poor  Cora !  "  he  thought  pityingly  —  for  pity  is 
the  only  sentiment  a  man  cherishes  toward  the  woman 
who  has  tried  to  make  a  fool  of  him  and  failed, — 
"  she  must  amuse  herself ,  I  suppose,"  and  he  turned 
to  face  his  audience. 

It  was  not  with  satisfaction,  however,  that  he  faced 
it.  His  minute's  survey  was  sufficient  to  tell  him  that 
it  was  largely  composed  of  that  element  among  the 
public  which  looks  upon  elections  and  campaigns  only 
as  a  chance  for  fun.  He  was  neither  a  great  actor  nor 
a  born  orator,  but  his  training  in  politics  had  endowed 
him  with  the  great  actor's  and  born  orator's  faculty 
of  "  sizing  up "  an  audience.  It  was  disappointing 
to  find  it  so,  but  he  was  none  the  less  certain  that 
curiosity  and  a  desire  for  entertainment  had  gathered 
these  people  together,  more  than  anything  else. 
Among  the  "  society  people  "  present,  for  instance,  he 
knew  his  friends  had  come  only  to  hear  Verney  Ellis 
speak, —  no  matter  what  he  said, —  and  his  enemies  to 
ridicule  Verney  Ellis, —  no  matter  what  he  said.  It 

[359] 


The  Politician 

was  maddening,  but  true,  that  in  both  cases  their  inter- 
est was  purely  personal.  As  for  the  main  body  of 
people  there,  he  felt  that  they  were  indifferent.  Their 
attitude  said  plainly  enough,  "  These  elections  have  noth- 
ing to  do  with  me,  but  I  '11  listen,"  as  they  leant  back 
in  their  chairs  and  prepared  themselves  for  the  duty 
with  the  air  of  doing  some  one  a  favor. 

There  were  indeed  any  number  of  indications  observ- 
able to  his  quick  eye  that  helped  to  convince  him  that 
the  enormous  concourse  of  people  sitting  there  in  the 
theatre  waiting  to  hear  him  speak  had  come  for  any 
number  of  other  reasons  besides  a  desire  for  light  on 
the  question  of  the  State  elections.  The  simple  state- 
ment of  fact  that  was  all  that  had  been  required  of 
him  by  his  village  audiences  in  his  tour  of  the  State, 
and  that  had  been  all-sufficient  to  press  home  the  fit- 
ness of  the  Republican  party  to  select  men  for  public 
office  who  would  make  for  honest  and  efficient  govern- 
ment, he  realized  would  be  powerless  to  make  an 
impression  on  this  cosmopolitan  New  York  audience, 
whose  sole  idea  that  evening  was  to  be  diverted. 

The  fact  was  they  did  n't  care  about  the  elections, 
these  people ;  they  did  n't  care  who  won  or  what  party 
came  into  power.  With  a  feeling  of  indignation  that 
it  was  so  Verney  saw  that  it  was  his  task  that  night 
to  make  them  care ;  that  his  problem  was  not  to  prove 
the  superiority  of  one  candidate  or  one  party  in  the 
coming  elections,  but  to  arouse  interest  in  the  elections 
themselves.  The  smiling,  tolerant  front  which  his 
hearers  in  general  presented  to  him,  which  said  as  plainly 

[360] 


Verney  Loses  His  Temper 

as  words  could  say  it,  "  I  came  to  be  amused,  I  wonder 
if  the  young  man  on  the  platform  is  going  to  do  it," 
enraged  Verney  not  a  little,  and  he  fell  upon  it  with 
the  bitter  determination  to  dent  it  or  die. 

In  the  heat  of  his  resentment  of  this  attitude,  in  his 
eagerness  to  make  his  auditors  discard  it,  he  forgot  his 
dislike  of  public  speaking  and  dared  to  be  eloquent. 
But  true  eloquence  is  as  different  from  spread-eagleism 
as  the  sun  from  the  moon,  and  Verney,  to  achieve  it, 
had  to  steer  a  masterly  course  between  the  rocks  of 
flamboyancy  and  the  reef  of  false  sentiment ;  and  being 
a  first-class  politician  he  accomplished  the  feat  without 
once  mentioning  Alexander  Hamilton,  or  beginning  a 
period  with  "  from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific,  from  the 
statue  of  Liberty  to  the  Golden  Gate,"  or  indulging 
in  "  grand  grammar." 

He  began  his  speech  with  a  fiery  denunciation  of 
indifference  as  an  attitude  toward  elections.  He  said 
it  was  the  duty  of  every  one  to  be  interested,  that  it  was 
the  duty  of  every  man  to  join  the  army  of  voters  and  that 
that  army  should  go  to  the  polls  just  as  any  army 
went  to  war, —  to  fight.  That  if  the  people  believed 
the  party  bosses  controlled  the  primaries,  that  was  all 
the  more  reason  why  they  should  attend  the  primaries 
in  force  to  protect  their  interests,  instead  of  staying 
away,  and  that  every  man  who  did  n't  vote  at  the  pri- 
maries was  a  deserter.  He  said  the  Republic  needed  the 
support  of  every  one  of  its  citizens  if  it  was  to  endure ; 
and  that  if  every  citizen  took  an  interest  in  govern- 
ment it  would  endure;  and  that  Governments  in  the 

[361] 


The  Politician 

past  had  been  well  known  to  have  fallen  from  lack  of 
the  support  of  the  people.  Here  he  was  interrupted, 
to  his  surprise  —  for  he  was  not  looking  for  applause, 
—  by  a  burst  of  cheering.  Those  who  least  deserve 
it  are  usually  the  ones  most  complacent  about  ac- 
cepting flattery,  and  the  loudest  cheers  that  met  Ver- 
ney's  implication  that  the  people  were  all-powerful,  came 
from  the  throats  of  those  least  active  in  public  affairs. 

"  You  say  one  man's  vote  can't  matter? "  he 
asked,  leaning  forward  with  flashing  eyes.  "  I  say  you 
are  wrong.  The  cooperation  of  every  citizen  in  the 
Republic  is  essential  to  the  preservation  of  the  balance 
of  power  upon  which  the  perfection  and  endurance  of 
our  political  fabric  depend. 

"  You  say  that 's  too  much  to  ask  of  every  citizen ; 
that  he  has  n't  time  to  cooperate,  to  show  interest 
in  public  affairs ;  that  if  honest  and  efficient  government 
is  dependent  upon  personal  exertion,  it 's  too  big  a 
price  too  pay?  I  say  again  that  you  are  wrong;  that 
no  price  is  too  big  to  pay  for  honest  and  efficient  govern- 
ment [he  raised  his  hand  to  quell  the  instant  applause 
this  statement  elicited],  and  that  no  patriot  can  do  less 
than  pay  it."  The  clapping  burst  forth  unchecked. 

"  And  I  use  the  word  '  patriot '  seriously,"  he  went 
on,  "  although  a  great  many  people  don't  seem  to  under- 
stand what  it  means.  They  seem  to  think  patriotism 
is  a  thing  to  be  ashamed  of,  a  sentiment  to  be  put  away 
and  only  brought  out  and  used  on  the  Fourth  of  July 
and  other  national  holidays ;  but  it 's  not.  It  is  n't  a 
brass  band  and  a  bunch  of  flags,  it 's  a  concrete  force 


Verney  Loses  His  Temper 

for  good "  —  he  nodded  energetically  to  emphasize 
each  word, —  "  that  if  put  into  practical  operation  in 
politics  at  election  times  can  meet  corruption  on  its 
own  ground  and  vanquish  it  single-handed!"  (Ap- 
plause. People  like  to  hear  about  vice  being  put  to 
rout,  even  if  they  are  too  lazy  to  want  to  help  to  rout 
it  themselves.) 

"  To  my  mind  a  man  requires  to  be  only  two  things 
in  order  to  be  eligible  to  public  office,  a  patriot  and  a 
politician.  In  order  to  see  why  the  second  require- 
ment is  necessary,  assuming  that  the  first  is  admitted, 
the  definition  of  the  term  '  politician '  must  be 
thoroughly  understood. 

"  The  general  interpretation  of  the  word  is,  I  believe, 
synonymous  with  the  term  *  ward  boss.9  It  is  at  least 
synonymous  with  the  phrase  *  power  wielded  for  evil.' 
This  idea  is  so  common  it  has  become  a  fact  that  the 
worst  thing  one  enemy  in  the  campaign  can  say  about  an- 
other is  that  he  's  a  '  politician.' '  He  stopped  and 
smiled,  as  the  audience,  realizing  that  he  made  this  state- 
ment from  personal  experience,  laughed  appreciatively. 

"  But  this  connotation  of  the  word  is  not  the  correct 
one,"  ^e  went  on.  "  To  be  called  a  politician  is  not 
in  itself  a  reproach  to  any  man.  Because,  as  I  read 
in  some  magazine  recently,  no  man  can  be,  not  to  say 
a  successful,  but  a  competent  public  man,  unless  he 
understands  and  likes  and  practises  the  game  of 
politics." 

("I  guess  that 's  so,"  said  those  present  who  had 
previously  thought  all  politicians  must  be  bad  men, 

[363] 


The  Politician 

and  "  Of  course,  that 's  so,"  said  those  of  the  maligned 
who  were  there.) 

"  A  very  good  definition  of  a  politician  that  I  found 
in  the  same  article,"  continued  Verney,  "  is  that  he 's 
a  man  who  possesses  certain  qualities  that  are  essen- 
tial to  a  proper  conduct  of  public  affairs,  and  without 
which  he  will  fall  short  of  the  highest  efficiency  if 
opportunity  should  place  him  in  an  important  admin- 
istrative position. 

"  That  is  n't  to  say,  you  know,"  he  added  earnestly, 
"  that  there  are  no  corrupt  politicians.  I  would  n't 
attempt  to  deny  that  any  more  than  I  would  attempt 
to  deny  that  there  are  corrupt  men  in  any  other  walk 
of  life ;  and  to  quote  further,  it  is  n't  to  say  that  every 
politician  is  a  good  administrator,  either,  but  it  is  to 
say  that  every  good  administrator  is  a  politician.  [Ap» 
plause.] 

"  You  are  not  to  understand  from  this  that  I  think 
that  only  a  politician  by  actual  practice  is  eligible  to 
office,  but  that  I  am  convinced  the  man  who  proves  to  be 
able  when  in  office  has  generally  by  nature  something 
of  the  politician  in  him. 

"  It  is  not,  either,  only  the  men  who  have  power 
and  money  that  get  the  offices ;  the  idea  that  the  average 
citizen  who  has  no  pull  stands  no  chance  to  run  for 
office  is  a  mistaken  one,  and  no  excuse  at  all  for  indiffer- 
ence to  elections.  For  it  is  true  now  as  it  was  then,  what 
Abraham  Lincoln  said  in  one  of  his  speeches,  that  '  it 
is  the  glory  of  this  great  Republic  that  its  highest 
places  are  open  to  its  humblest  citizens ;  that  American 

[364] 


Verney  Loses  His  Temper 

institutions  make  it  possible  that  to  hold  the  highest 
places  in  the  State  not  glitter  of  wealth  is  needed,  or 
trickery,  or  demagogery;  only  honesty,  hard  thinking, 
and  fixed  resolve ! '  [Tumultuous  applause  in  response 
to  this  quotation  from  "  Old  Abe."] 

"  But  to  return  to  my  text,"  he  smiled  around  him  as 
if  he  felt  he  had  neared  the  end  of  what  he  had  felt 
pressing  so  upon  him  to  say,  "  that  the  cooperation  of 
every  voter  in  the  country  is  necessary  to  gain  and 
maintain  good  government, —  what  I  'm  trying  to  im- 
press upon  you  to-night  is  that  in  order  to  get  a  thing 
it  is  necessary  to  want  it  first.  We  must  really  want 
good  government  before  we  can  expect  to  get  it;  we 
must  be  anxious  to  fight  corruption  before  we  can  con- 
quer it.  In  spite  of  the  fact  that  a  small  minority  of 
empty  heads  laugh  at  reform  and  its  promoters  [he 
glanced  pleasantly  but  piercingly  around  at  the  various 
fashionables  present  who  largely  represented  the  class 
he  referred  to,  and  they  squirmed  uneasily  in  their 
seats],  we  must  wish  for  reform  before  we  can  expect 
to  improve  the  present  condition  of  things. 

"  This  fight  against  corruption  has  been  going  on 
a  long  time,  but  it  has  never  been  so  active  as  in  the 
past  ten  years.  Previous  to  that  time  impurity  in 
political  conditions,  though  present,  has  been  unacknowl- 
edged and  glossed  over,  so  that  it  was  difficult  to 
deal  v/ith;  but  now,  owing  to  the  tide  of  investigation 
and  reform  that  has  been  sweeping  over  the  country, 
it  has  been  routed  out  into  the  light  of  day.  Like 
the  measles,  when  the  nature  of  the  disease  has  been 

[365] 


The  Politician 

discovered,  the  spots  have  appeared  on  the  outside. 
[Laughter.]  And  they  will  soon  be  gotten  rid  of. 
For  we  're  all  of  us,  when  you  come  right  down  to  it 
—  Democrats,  Independents,  and  Republicans, —  work- 
ing together  to  one  end, —  to  make  this  the  greatest 
country  in  the  world!  [Applause.]  And  whether 
by  means  of  direct  nomination  or  by  means  of  the  con- 
vention, by  means  of  new-school  reform  or  old-school 
reform,  by  abolishing  old  institutions  or  introducing  new 
ones,  we  're  going  to  succeed ! 

"  The  method  of  succeeding  is  n't  so  important.  The 
important  thing  is  that  if  we  care  enough  to  wish  for 
reform,  if  we  're  patriotic  enough  honestly  to  want  hon- 
est and  efficient  government  and  make  up  our  minds  to 
have  it  — "  he  lowered  his  voice  suddenly  to  a  pitch 
that  thrilled,  each  word  being  distinctly  audible, — "  ice 
are  go'mg  to  get  it!  " 

He  sat  down  amidst  a  storm  of  applause  so  spon- 
taneous, so  genuine,  and  so  prolonged,  that  it  gave  good 
promise  to  the  young  man  that  he  had  succeeded  in 
making  that  difficult  audience  care  if  it  was  only  for 
that  evening,  and  he  felt  that  in  spite  of  the  fact  that 
he  had  not  touched  upon  the  various  issues  of  the  cam- 
paign or  boomed  the  Republican  candidate  for  Gov- 
ernor, or  heaped  personal  abuse  upon  his  rival,  he  had 
accomplished  something,  and  that  it  had  not  been  time 
wasted. 

His  friend  Tommy  Beekman,  however,  was  not  so 
sure  of  that  as  Verney  was.  Advancing  to  congratulate 
his  friend  on  the  success  of  his  speech,  which  he  could 


Verney  Loses  His  Temper 

not  deny,  he  took  occasion  at  the  same  time  to  reproach 
him  that  he  had  been  so  general  in  his  statements,  and 
had  departed  so  from  the  style  of  his  previous  speeches. 

"  You  did  n't  boost  the  grand  old  party  once,"  he 
complained,  "  or  cheer  for  Oliver,  or  roast  Billy  the 
snob!" 

Verney  smiled  deprecatingly. 

"  Well,  you  see,"  he  said,  "  I  had  so  many  other 
things  on  my  mind  to  say.  The  minute  I  looked  at  that 
damned  audience,  I  knew  most  of  them  came  for  fun 
or  for  curiosity,  not  because  they  were  interested  in 
the  elections,  and  it  made  me  mad.  I  wanted  to  say 
something  that  would  stir  them  up  and  set  them  think- 
ing. I  'd  rather  have  them  vote  against  us  than  not 
at  all,  you  know." 

"  You  stirred  them  up,  I  should  say,"  admitted  Beek- 
man. 

"  And  then,  you  know,  Tommy,"  Verney  added  con- 
fidentially, "  I  never  had  a  chance  before  to  talk  at  so 
many  people  that  could  n't  get  away  from  me !  I  had 
to  make  the  most  of  it!"  He  laughed  outright. 

"  Well,  never  mind,"  said  his  friend  magnanimously  ; 
"  it  does  n't  matter  so  much.  Ordway  is  pretty  solid 
in  New  York,  you  know,  anyway.  I  was  only  afraid 
it  would  n't  win  as  many  votes  for  you  personally  as 
your  other  speeches  have." 

But  the  event  did  not  justify  the  little  Albany  man's 
apprehensions  in  that  respect.  For  the  most  part  the 
people  were  saying  to  themselves  as  they  filed  out  of 
the  theatre  to  the  strains  of  "  Yankee  Doodle  "  played 

[367] 


The  Politician 

by  the  big  band  at  the  door,  "  I  don't  care  what  party 
he  belongs  to ;  I  'm  going  to  vote  for  him  not  be- 
cause he 's  a  Republican  or  because  he  is  n't,  but 
because  I  'd  like  a  man  like  that,  who  is  n't  afraid  to 
speak  his  mind,  who  is  in  earnest,  who  really  thinks, 
and  says  what  he  thinks,  too, —  for  Attorney-general. 
It  speaks  well  for  his  ability  to  defend  the  people's 
interests." 

The  newspapers  printed  the  speech  the  next  morning, 
and  some  of  them  said  it  was  very  good;  and  others 
said  that  the  doctrine  of  Patriotism  —  a  sentiment  that 
knew  no  party  and  acknowledged  no  leader  —  as 
preached  by  a  party  man  and  a  member  of  the  machine, 
was  political  chicanery  and  nothing  else;  and  that  the 
young  man  who  made  the  speech  was  an  experienced 
politician  and  nothing  else,  who  knew  the  vote-getting 
value  of  the  sentiment  of  patriotism  properly  appealed 
to,  and  cared  not  at  all  for  the  sentiment  itself.  Thou- 
sands of  people  read  the  speech,  nevertheless,  and  without 
paying  any  attention  to  what  the  newspapers  said  one 
way  or  the  other,  a  great  number  of  them  voted  for 
Verney  on  the  strength  of  it.  Genuine  uprightness  and 
principle,  even  if  it  is  found  in  a  machine  politician,  is 
not  after  all  so  very  difficult  to  recognize. 

In  the  lobby  of  the  theatre  Verney  encountered  Har- 
riet. She  was  standing  by  a  pillar,  her  sweet  face  and 
large  black  eyes  evidently  searching  the  crowd  for  some 
one  as  it  passed  her.  Mrs.  Cumloch  was  not  to  be  seen, 
but  George  Benton  was  at  her  elbow. 

"  Oh,  there  jou  are ! "  she  cried  eagerly,  catching 
[368] 


Verney  Loses  His  Temper 

sight  of  Ellis ;  and  as  he  disengaged  himself  from  the 
men  he  was  walking  with  and  came  up  to  her,  "  Aunt 
Lydia  did  n't  feel  well  and  she  's  gone  home,  but  we 
wanted,  Mr.  Benton  and  I," —  she  glanced  at  the  young 
man  at  her  side, — "to  wait  and  congratulate  you  on 
your  speech." 

"  It  was  a  wonder,"  said  Benton  in  something  the 
same  phrase  he  had  used  in  praising  another  speech  of 
Ellis's,  the  one  he  had  made  at  the  Republican  National 
Convention  as  long  ago  as  the  preceding  June.  "  I  tell 
you  it  made  me  feel  like  a  criminal,  to  think  I  've  paid 
so  little  attention  to  elections  and  voting  and  things  1 
I  'm  always  travelling  around  election  times,  or  else 
I  've  been  so  busy  on  my  farm  I  have  n't  voted,  you 
know."  He  ended  in  an  apologetic  tone  that  would 
almost  have  made  Verney  laugh  if  the  speaker  had  n't 
been  so  evidently  sincere. 

Verney  believed  he  had  every  reason  to  dislike  Benton, 
whom  he  barely  remembered  having  met  that  time  of  the 
Chicago  Convention.  Was  he  not  openly  devoting  him- 
self to  Harriet  Rand?  and  was  not  his  devotion  ap- 
parently received  with  favor?  But  he  could  not  help 
feeling  pleased  by  his  enthusiasm  and  honest  expression 
of  admiration  for  himself. 

"  It 's  not  too  late  to  begin  to  pay  attention  now," 
he  said,  with  his  quick,  friendly  smile. 

The  other  man  ceased  polishing  his  glasses  excitedly 
and  beamed  back. 

"  No,"  he  said,  "  and  I  mean  to,  the  minute  I  get 
home,  but  I  wish  you  'd  talk  some  more  about  it  to  me." 
24  369 


The  Politician 

He  turned  to  Harriet.  "  Can't  we  all  go  and  have 
supper  somewhere?"  he  asked  eagerly.  "It's  only 
twelve  o'clock." 

Harriet  smiled  indulgently.  "  We  could  n't  do  that 
very  well,  George,  but  we  might  go  home  and  get  some- 
thing to  eat,"  she  said.  "  Aunt  Lydia  was  to  send  the 
carriage  back  for  us,  you  know." 

"Will  you,  Ellis?"  asked  Benton,  taking  up  the 
invitation  promptly. 

Verney  had  planned  some  more  work  to  do  that  night, 
as  it  happened,  but  Benton's  anxiety  that  he  should  be 
of  the  party  was  so  genuine,  and  the  appeal  in  Har- 
riet's eyes  so  sweet  that  he  decided  on  the  instant  to 
delay  it. 

"  Of  course,  I  will  come,"  he  agreed,  and  they  went 
and  found  the  carriage. 

Mrs.  Cumloch  had  gone  up  to  her  room  when  they 
reached  the  house,  but  she  sent  word  that  coffee  and 
sandwiches  would  be  served  to  them  in  a  few  minutes, 
if  they  would  excuse  her  from  coming  down. 

The  three  made  themselves  comfortable  in  the  dining- 
room,  where  the  long  dark  table  reflected  the  low-hung 
Tiffany  light  and  a  leaping  grate  fire. 

"  I  'm  much  too  excited  to  eat,"  said  Harriet,  seating 
herself  in  the  big  leather  chair  at  one  end  of  the  table ; 
"  you  see,  I  've  never  been  at  a  political  meeting  before. 
How  about  you  two  ?  " 

"  My  appetite,"  said  Verney,  as  the  two  men  sat 
down  one  on  each  side  of  her,  "  is  like  old  dog  Tray, 

[370] 


Verney  Loses  His  Temper 

nothing  can  drive  it  away,  not  even  having  to  make  a 
speech  to  a  crowd  of  people  who  don't  want  to  hear  it." 

"  It  seems  to  me  a  terrible  reflection  on  the  country 
that  you  should  be  able  to  make  that  statement,"  re- 
marked Benton.  "  I  suppose  it  will  all  be  changed, 
Harriet,  and  there  will  be  no  more  indifference  when 
women  vote  ?  " 

"  But  they  never  will,"  affirmed  Ellis  quickly ;  "  this 
woman's-suffrage  business  is  only  an  agitation  of  the 
moment."  That  there  was  any  place  for  women  in 
politics  was  an  inconceivable  idea  to  him. 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Harriet,  loyal  to  her  sex,  though 
she  hated  to  disagree  with  Verney,  "  I  believe  it 's  here 
to  stay." 

"  And  I  believe,"  he  replied,  "  that  in  a  year  or  two 
the  whole  thing  will  be  as  much  an  exploded  theory  as 
the  one  that  the  earth  is  square  instead  of  round,  or  the 
theory  of  affinities." 

"  It 's  making  noise  enough,  certainly,"  said  Harriet, 
"  as  far  as  exploding  is  concerned ;  but,"  she  added, 
"  don't  you  believe  in  affinities?  Don't  you  believe  that 
there  is  just  one  woman  in  the  world  for  every  man?  " 

"  Candidly,  I  don't,"  returned  Verney,  "  and  I  '11  tell 
you  why." 

"  I  confess  I  'm  interested." 

"  You  see,"  he  said  smiling,  "  if  you  '11  look  it  up  in 
the  encyclopaedia,  you  '11  find  that  there  are,  as  a  matter 
of  fact,  more  women  in  the  world  than  there  are  men ! "" 

They  all  laughed,  and  the  talk  drifted  on. 
[371] 


The  Politician 

The  two  men  were  slow  in  starting  their  promised 
discussion  of  politics,  perhaps  because  they  were  con- 
scious of  a  feeling  of  restraint  in  the  presence  of  the 
girl  who,  they  were  both  aware,  had  played  an  im- 
portant part  in  the  life  of  each;  and  at  first  they  ad- 
dressed all  their  remarks  to  Miss  Rand  rather  than  to 
each  other. 

But  Harriet,  while  appreciating  the  situation  per- 
fectly, was  nevertheless  resolute  in  her  determination 
that  these  men  whom  she  thought  so  much  of  should 
also  think  a  great  deal  of  each  other;  and  with  tireless 
activity  and  skill  she  returned  the  ball  of  conversation 
which,  they  sent  her  in  turns,  so  that  it  had  to  bound 
between  both  men  at  least  once  before  it  was  down  and 
out. 

And  before  long  under  the  unfluence  of  her  im- 
partial turning  from  one  to  the  other,  as  if  both  were 
equally  her  friends,  and  as  if  they  knew  it,  Verney's  feel- 
ing of  resentment  against  this  man  for  the  high  place 
he  seemed  to  hold  in  Harriet's  estimation,  and  Benton's 
embarrassment  in  the  presence  of  the  man  he  had  once 
feared  as  a  rival,  vanished,  and  the  two  were  soon  hav- 
ing the  ball  all  to  themselves,  sending  it  back  and  forth 
between  them  without  once  throwing  it  in  Harriet's 
direction. 

But  the  girl  did  not  mind.  Clearly  Verney  was  in- 
terested in  George,  she  could  tell  that  by  the  attention 
with  which  he  listened  to  what  he  had  to  say,  and  by  the 
sparkle  of  eagerness  in  his  own  eyes  when  he  replied; 

[372] 


Verney  Loses  His  Temper 

and    George    was    of    course    thoroughly    charmed    by 
Verney  —  that  was  to  be  expected. 

The  eyes  of  the  young  men  met  and  flashed  with 
greater  frequency,  and  their  discussion  became  more 
and  more  animated  as  the  hour  wore  away,  and  Har- 
riet, watching  them,  leaned  back  in  her  chair  with  the 
contented  air  of  one  who  sees  a  good  work  well  done. 


[  373  ] 


CHAPTER  XXI 

"NOT  LAUNCELOT   OR  ANOTHER*' 

HARRIET  was  sitting  at  Mrs.  Chittenden's 
grand  piano  in  the  upstairs  sitting-room, 
not  many  mornings  later,  playing  Mas- 
senet's "  Elegie."  Her  aunt  had  gone  out  to  a  dress- 
maker's appointment,  and  she  was  alone.  It  was  a 
comfortable  sunny  room  occupying  the  whole  front 
width  of  the  long  narrow  house,  and  very  pleasing  to 
the  eye  with  its  mushroom-colored  walls,  its  yellow  silk 
curtains  at  the  windows,  and  the  gold-colored  cushions 
heaped  on  brown  velvet  divan  and  chair.  A  splendid 
oil  painting  of  the  Bridge  of  Sighs  hung  over  the  piano 
and  under  it  on  the  glittering  ebony  of  the  instrument 
a  great  sheaf  of  dark-red  roses  lay. 

Harriet's  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  flowers  as  she 
played,  although  her  thoughts  were  not  with  the  sender, 
Billy  Vandewater,  whose  daily  gift  they  were;  they 
dwelt  rather  upon  love  itself  then  upon  any  one  man  — • 
upon  its  beauty,  its  mystery,  its  elusiveness,  and  its 
pain.  The  subdued  minor  plaint  of  Massenet's  music, 
with  its  murmur  of  passion,  its  perpetual  crying  out 
at  the  wonder  of  life,  was  sweet  in  her  ears,  perhaps 
because  she  thought  she  had  so  recently  parted  with 

[374] 


"Not  Launcelot  or  Another " 

happiness,  perhaps  because  happiness  in  reality  was 
flying  toward  her  on  outstretched  wings. 

She  did  not  analyze  the  feeling;  she  only  knew,  as 
she  drew  the  beautiful  melody  from  the  willing  keys  and 
gave  it  to  the  room,  that  it  spoke  to  her,  that  it  soothed 
and  comforted  her  as  if  it  said,  "  All  happiness  is. 
relative ;  the  flower  of  love  is  not  everlasting,  and  affec- 
tion, comradeship,  friendship,  the  nature  of  which  is 
more  enduring,  are  things  very  much  worth  the  having." 

She  stopped  playing,  clasped  her  hands  with  her 
elbows  on  the  keyboard,  and  sat  musing.  Presently  a 
maid  came  up  and  announced  that  Miss  Rand  had  a 
caller,  a  young  man.  There  was  no  card,  and  he  had 
not  given  his  name,  and  the  maid,  who  was  new,  did  not 
know  it. 

"  Bring  him  up  here,"  said  Harriet. 

She  knew  it  must  be  either  George  Benton  or  Billy 
Vandewater.  No  one  but  a  lover  would  expect  her  to 
know  his  name  without  any  help  from  him,  by  second 
sight  as  it  were,  and  no  one  but  a  lover  would  call  at 
eleven  o'clock  in  the  morning.  Which  was  it,  she 
wondered.  She  had  seen  both  men  almost  every  day 
since  her  return  from  Chicago,  and  it  might  as  well  be 
one  as  the  other.  She  grew  quite  excited  trying  to 
guess  which  it  could  be  before  he  came,  even  going  so 
far  as  to  look  in  the  tall  mirror  at  the  other  end  of  the 
room,  though  she  was  no  coquette,  to  see  if  her  plain 
blue  silk  morning  dress  was  as  becoming  as  she  hoped. 

It  was  Vandewater,  probably,  she  thought  —  she  had 
seen  George  Benton  last.  She  looked  at  the  roses  lying 

[375] 


The  Politician 

in  their  splendor  on  the  top  of  the  piano,  and  was  con- 
scious of  a  half  regretful  feeling  that  she  was  not  made 
happier  by  the  thought.  He  was  a  very  fascinating 
man,  Vandewater,  and  she  was  interested  in  him;  he 
aroused  in  her  the  woman's  instinct  to  reform,  for  she 
was  not  unfamiliar  with  his  reputation  for  fast  living; 
but  she  knew,  too,  as  she  looked  at  his  roses,  that  the 
only  feeling  she  could  ever  have  for  him,  although  she 
was  not  at  all  positive  he  wanted  her  to  have  a  different 
one,  was  — 

The  maid  appeared  in  the  doorway  and  George  Ben- 
ton  followed  her  into  the  room. 

"  Oh,  it  was  you ! "  cried  Harriet,  low  but  rather 
joyously,  because  of  her  surprise. 

"  Of  course ! "  he  said  fondly.  "  Whom  did  you 
think  ?  But  let 's  sit  down,  I  've  got  a  grand  piece  of 
news  for  you." 

"  I  thought  it  must  be  something  unusual  to  bring 
you  at  this  hour."  She  sat  down  on  the  divan  in  the 
window. 

"  Not  at  all,"  he  reproached,  seating  himself  beside 
her ;  "  I  'd  come  at  this  time  every  day  if  you  would  let 
me!" 

She  laughed.     "Well,  go  on,  what's  your  news?" 

He  polished  his  glasses  excitedly.  "  It 's  the  greatest 
thing  in  the  world ;  you  '11  never  believe  it."  He  paused, 
looking  at  her  eagerly. 

"  How  irritating  you  are  !  "  she  said  with  emphasis  ; 
"  you  're  worse  than  a  girl  for  keeping  people  in  sus- 
pense! What  is  the  greatest  thing  in  the  world?  " 

[376] 


"Not  Launcelot  or  Another" 

"  You  know  how  good  he 's  been  about  letting  me 
help  him  with  his  campaign  work  this  last  week  ?  "  he 
asked  seriously. 

"  Verney,  you  mean?  Yes,  I  know.  He  's  kept  you 
so  busy,  I  've  hardly  seen  anything  of  you." 

She  had  seen  him  once  at  least  every  day,  but  the 
young  man  nevertheless  seemed  pleased  by  the  state- 
ment. He  flushed  to  the  roots  of  his  negative  light- 
brown  hair. 

"  Do  you  mean  that  ?  "  he  stammered ;  "  do  you  mean, 
I  mean,  you  care  how  much  you  see  me?  " 

His  eagerness  confused  Harriet  a  little,  but  it  did 
not  displease  her. 

"  Of  course,"  she  answered  stoutly,  "  but  do  go  on 
with  your  news." 

"  It 's  the  greatest  thing  in  the  world ;  you  '11  never 
believe  it !  "  said  Benton,  who  was  not  given  to  prolif- 
icness  in  speech.  If  a  phrase  or  a  sentence  said  what  he 
wanted  to  say  the  first  time  he  used  it,  he  had  no  shame 
about  using  it  a  second. 

"  If  you  say  that  again,"  she  announced  posi- 
tively, "  I  '11  go  right  out  of  the  room ;  I  will  truly, 
Georgie ! " 

"  No,  wait !  Don't  go !  I  '11  tell  you,"  he  said,  rising 
as  if  he  could  conquer  his  emotion  better  on  his  feet. 
"  He 's  such  an  awfully  fine  man,  such  a  dead  game 
sport  " —  it  was  his  favorite  expression, — "  works  so 
hard,  you  know,  against  such  odds !  "  He  stopped,  con- 
fronting the  girl.  "  He  's  a  king,  Harriet !  that 's  what 
he  is,  a  king." 

[377] 


The  Politician 

"  I  know  it,"  she  assented,  "  and  I  'm  so  glad  to  have 
you  know  it,  too." 

"  So  am  I !  Why,  I  would  n't  have  missed  knowing 
him  for  all  the  money  I  'm  going  to  lose  on  my  stock 
farm  this  year !  It 's  given  me  a  new  interest  in  life 
just  to  come  in  contact  with  an  enthusiast  like  him. 
I  've  always  been  such  a  lazy  beggar,  you  know."  He 
sighed  ruefully,  but  brightened  as  Harriet  shook  her 
head.  "  It 's  been  a  liberal  education  to  see  how  that 
fellow  works,  to  meet  anyone  that  cares  about  anything 
as  he  cares  about  politics,  to  see  how  he  goes  at  the 
thing!" 

"  Is  n't  it  wonderful  ?  Is  n't  it  tremendous  ?  "  said 
Harriet. 

Benton  walked  excitedly  up  and  down.  "  I  don't 
know  what  it  will  all  come  to,  I  don't  know  that  I  '11 
actually  go  in  for  politics  myself  at  all;  but  if  it  was 
only  for  the  faith  in  myself  it 's  given  me  to  see  him 
make  life  so  much  worth  the  living,  I  'd  feel  indebted 
to  him." 

"  Dear  George !  "  said  Harriet,  "  dear  George !  " 
There  was  genuine  fondness  in  her  eyes  as  she  looked 
at  him. 

"  And  that  is  n't  all,"  he  said,  turning  to  her,  his  good, 
honest  face  abeam.  "  Do  you  know  what  he 's  done 
now,  Harriet?  what  he  did  last  night?  what  I  came  to 
tell  you  about  ?  " 

"  No,"  she  said  with  mock  despair,  "  and  I  don't  be- 
lieve I  ever  shall  know  !  " 

"  Yes,"  he  said ;  "  I  'm  going  to  tell  you.  You  know 
[378] 


"Not  Launcelot  or  Another" 

how  hard  up  he  's  been,  trying  to  meet  the  expenses  of 
this  campaign  ?  They  've  altogether  exceeded  the 
amount  the  party  appropriated  for  it,  you  know, 
Vandewater  has  set  such  a  pace." 

"Yes?     Yes?" 

"  Well,"  he  lowered  his  voice  as  if  what  he  had  to 
say  were  too  wonderful  for  any  other  method  of  com- 
munication, "  last  night  he  told  me  —  I  made  him 
promise  —  that  he  'd  let  me  give  him  enough  to  cover 
all  costs  in  excess  of  what  he  could  raise  to  spend,  and 
enough  to  finish  up  the  campaign  with  gloriously! 
What  do  you  think  of  that?  " 

His  face  was  radiant. 

"  Oh,  George,  no ! "  she  said. 

"  Yes,"  he  asseverated  triumphantly,  "  it  was  only  a 
few  thousands."  Then  he  grew  graver.  "  It  made  so 
much  difference  to  him,  it  made  me  ashamed  to  have  it 
make  so  little  difference  to  me.  It  does  n't  seem  right, 
somehow,  that  a  man  like  that  should  be  handicapped 
because  he  has  n't  money  enough  to  do  things,  when 
I  've  got  it  to  throw  away  —  does  it  ?  " 

Harriet  came  close  up  to  him  and  looked  up  into  his 
kindly  face  glowing  with  generosity,  with  tears  in  her 
eyes. 

"  Perhaps  not,"  she  said,  "  but  all  the  same  I  think 
you  're  the  finest  man  in  the  world  for  giving  it  to  him." 

And  of  her  own  accord  she  put  both  arms  about  his 
neck  and  kissed  him. 

Harriet  went  into  Mrs.  Cumloch's  room  late  that 
night,  as  she  always  did  before  going  to  bed,  and  told 

[379] 


The  Politician 

her  aunt  with  a  calm,  tranquil  smile  that  she  was  engaged 

±  O      O 

to  George  Benton. 

The  older  lady's  immediate  reply  to  this  astonishing 
communication  —  for  that  sort  of  announcement,  no 
matter  how  much  it  is  expected,  is  nevertheless  always  a 
surprise  when  it  comes  —  was  a  silent  embrace. 

They  discussed  the  important  happening  later,  of 
course,  at  length ;  but  at  the  moment  of  its  impartment, 
Mrs.  Cumloch,  aware  as  she  was  of  the  other  hope  her 
niece  had  cherished,  could  find  no  words  with  which  to 
congratulate  her  on  the  fulfilment  of  the  opposite  one 
so  long  entertained  by  herself.  Harriet  was  grateful 
for  this  quiet  acceptance  of  her  announcement,  suspect- 
ing as  she  did  that  her  attachment  for  Verney  Ellis  had 
not  been  unremarked  by  her  aunt.  She  did  not  at- 
tempt to  enlarge  upon  the  subject  herself,  but  after  a 
word  or  two  on  other  matters  turned  to  leave  the  room. 
But  she  was  not  permitted  to  escape.  Curiosity  had 
conquered  Mrs.  Cumloch's  first  impulse  to  be  silent,  and 
the  fear,  inspired  by  Harriet's  controlled  manner  and 
her  indifferent  method  of  telling  her  piece  of  news,  that 
her  niece  was  not  altogether  happy,  impelled  her  to 
make  a  parting  comment  on  it. 

"  I  'm  so  glad  about  it  all,  Harriet  dear,"  she  said 
rather  timidly.  "  I  was  so  afraid  it  was  going  to  be 
that  good-for-nothing  Verney  Ellis !  "  This  last  almost 
spitefully. 

"  Why  do  you  say  that  — *  good-for-nothing  '  ?  "  in 
chilling  tones  from  the  door. 

Mrs.  Cumloch  could  not  say  as  she  thought  in  her 
[380] 


"Not  Launcelot  or  Another" 

heart,  "  Because  he  has  treated  my  darling  niece  so 
badly  !  "  so  she  did  n't  say  anything. 

"  I  'd  rather  you  did  n't  speak  of  him  like  that,"  con- 
tinued Harriet;  "it  isn't  just;  and  then,  he  is  my 
friend  " ;  but  she  added  more  sweetly,  as  if  in  concession 
to  her  aunt's  feeling  that  she  had  suffered  at  the  young 
man's  hands,  which  though  unspoken  was  yet  perfectly 
apparent  to  the  girl,  "  don't  worry  about  that,  Aunt 
Lydia,  I  'm  quite,  quite  happy."  And  she  said  it  as  if 
she  meant  it,  too.  There  are  all  kinds  of  happiness. 

"  I  'm  so  glad,"  murmured  her  aunt. 

"  Yes.  And  do  you  know  something? " — with  a 
serious  air  of  making  a  discovery  — "  I  don't  think  any 
girl  ever  marries  the  man  she  thinks  she  wants  to  marry, 
as  far  as  that  goes ! " 

When  she  had  gone,  the  older  lady  leaned  back  in  her 
chair  fairly  weak  with  the  emotion  the  news  of  Harriet's 
engagement  aroused  in  her. 

"  What  character !  what  character ! "  she  exclaimed, 
as  the  door  closed  upon  her  niece,  "  not  to  sit  down 
under  the  blow,  not  to  let  disappointment  prostrate  her ! 
To  see  that  life  after  all  offers  more  than  one  chance  of 
happiness !  That 's  my  niece,  my  more  than  daughter, 
my  Harriet ! "  And  she  fell  to  thanking  God  for  his 
goodness  in  letting  the  cloud  that  had  threatened  the 
clear  sky  of  the  girl's  peace  of  mind  pass  over  her  head 
and  leave  her  unharmed. 

The  next  person  whom  Harriet  wanted  to  tell  about 
her  engagement  was  Verney;  she  was  happy  and  she 
knew  it  would  make  him  happy  to  know  it;  but  two 

[381] 


The  Politician 

weeks  passed  without  giving  her  an  opportunity.  In 
all  that  time  she  had  not  seen  him,  though  Benton,  who 
was  doing  devoted  service,  helping  him  with  the  business 
that  was  incident  to  the  wind-up  of  the  campaign, 
brought  her  news  of  him  constantly,  and  she  had  heard 
from  him  once.  Verriey  had  dashed  her  off  a  hurried 
scrawl  one  day  on  paper  with  the  heading  "  Regular 
Republican  Organization  "  for  proof  of  how  hard  he 
was  pressed  for  time,  just  to  say  that  they  were  going: 
to  elect  their  candidate  for  President  by  a  large  maj  ority 
and  carry  the  State  for  Ordway  easily,  although  he 
did  n't  feel  sure  about  the  Attorney-generalship ;  and 
to  assure  her  with  evident  satisfaction  that  his  District 
was  O.  K.,  ajid  everybody  hard  at  work. 

Although  he  could  n't  go  to  see  her  as  he  used  to  do, 
Verney  took  a  melancholy  satisfaction  in  the  pleasures 
of  friendship,  now  that  their  recent  understanding  had 
unequivocally  established  their  relations  on  that  founda- 
tion, and  in  telling  her  of  his  work,  in  which  he  knew  her 
to  be  interested  for  Ms  own  sake. 

It  was  not  to  be  wondered  at,  however,  that  Harriet 
was  unable  to  get  speech  with  Ellis,  so  engrossed  he  was 
with  the  closing  days  of  the  campaign.  As  a  candidate 
on  the  Republican  ticket  and  executive  member  of  his 
•District,  his  time  had  been  filled  to  overflowing.  That 
he  was  not  actually  deprived  of  all  sleep  was  due  to 
the  able  assistance  of  his  self-constituted  lieutenants, 
Tommy  Beekman  and  George  Benton,  who  shoulder  to 
shoulder  fought  his  fight  with  him  every  step  of  the  way, 
and  by  taking  the  responsibility  of  minor  details  upon 

[382] 


"Not  Launcelot  or  Another" 

them,  forced  Verney  to  take  a  few  hours'  rest  each  night. 
Verney  was  very  grateful  to  them,  especially  to  Benton, 
who  had  been  his  faithful  shadow  —  ready  to  run  any 
errand,  no  matter  how  trifling,  that  would  save  his  friend 
—  ever  since  Harriet's  supper  party  following  Verney's 
great  speech,  and  who  was  not  a  member  of  the 
organization  as  Beekman  was,  and  had  no  interest  in 
the  outcome  of  the  campaign  except  for  Ellis's  sake. 

October  the  thirty-first  found  the  last  speech  made 
and  the  campaign  practically  over.  Sunday  the  first 
of  November  and  the  days  before  election  were  inactive 
ones  for  most  people,  devoted  to  bands  and  bets.  For 
Verney,  however,  although  it  was  only  one  of  wait- 
ing to  his  friend  Ordway,  the  day  before  election  was 
the  busiest  of  the  whole  campaign.  When  he  was  not 
with  his  District  captains,  his  presence  was  required  at 
Republican  headquarters,  which  kept  him  moving  about 
a  great  deal;  and  then,  too,  there  was  much  detail  to 
the  business  of  distributing  election-day  literature,  a 
large  part  of  which  work  fell  on  his  shoulders. 

An  enormous  parade  had  been  going  by  the  windows 
of  the  Times  Square  Republican  Club  all  the  afternoon, 
where  he  was  busy  sending  out  thousands  of  little  white 
ballot  cards,  blue  slips  with  "  Vote  early  "  on  them,  and 
pink  ones  with  instructions  how  to  vote.  This  tremen- 
dous amount  of  work,  which  he  had  had  to  get  through 
in  the  past  week,  had  kept  him  for  the  last  three  or 
four  nights  from  returning  to  his  home  to  sleep,  which 
accounted  for  the  fact  that  he  did  not  get  a  note  Har- 
riet had  sent  him  some  days  ago,  until  Tuesday,  elec- 

[383] 


The  Politician 

tion-day  itself.  He  had  come  in  very  late  the  night 
before  and  did  not  look  at  his  accumulated  mail  until 
next  morning,  when  Wilson,  who  had  been  told  to  call 
him  early,  brought  it  up  to  his  room. 

It  was  just  a  line  in  her  pretty  handwriting  to  say 
that  she  had  something  she  wanted  very  much  to  talk 
to  him  about  and  would  he  come  in  and  see  her  as  soon 
as  he  could?  She  knew  it  would  be  hard  for  him  to 
get  away,  but  she  would  n't  keep  him  long,  and  any  time 
would  suit  her.  If  he  would  let  her  know  what  hour  and 
what  day  he  could  come  she  would  be  in. 

Verney's  brain  was  too  full  of  the  election  and  the 
possibility  of  defeat  or  victory  even  to  guess  what  it 
was  that  Harriet  wanted  to  talk  to  him  about;  but  it 
was  enough,  so  much  did  he  think  of  her,  that  she 
wanted  to  see  him  at  all. 

He  was  very  sorry  that  he  had  received  the  note  so 
late  and  he  told  himself  as  he  stuffed  it  in  his  pocket 
and  hurried  to  headquarters  that  he  would  go  that  very 
day,  election-day  or  not. 

At  five  that  afternoon  the  voting  was  over  and  he 
found  time  to  telephone  Harriet  that  he  would  be  up  at 
eight  o'clock. 

That  would  give  him  time,  he  thought,  to  see  that  the 
count  was  proceeding  legally  in  all  the  polling-places 
of  his  District  and  that  everything  was  being  properly 
watched;  and  as  the  returns  would  only  be  beginning 
to  come  in  at  eight,  he  felt  sure  that  he  would  have 
half  an  hour  to  spend  with  Miss  Rand  before  they 
became  really  exciting. 

[384] 


"Not  Launcelot  or  Another" 

Harriet  was  therefore  very  much  surprised  when  that 
hour  came  to  have  the  Democratic  candidate  for 
Attorney-general  shown  into  the  upstairs  sitting-room 
where  she  was  awaiting  Verney. 

She  surveyed  Vandewater's  form  and  dark  face  in 
amazement. 

"  Have  n't  you  anything  to  do  election  night  except 
to  come  and  call  on  a  girl?  "  she  said,  smiling  and  hold- 
ing out  her  hand. 

"  Nothing  so  important,"  said  the  young  man,  sitting 
down  beside  her  on  the  divan  in  the  window.  But  he 
looked  at  the  clock  almost  involuntarily  as  if  the  time 
were  indeed  precious  to  him. 

"  Then  you  must  either  feel  sure  of  winning  or  cer- 
tain you  're  going  to  lose,  one  or  the  other.  Those  are 
the  only  reasons  that  could  possibly  account  for  your 
lack  of  interest  in  the  returns !  " 

"  Yes,  except  one  other !  " 

He  looked  at  her  quickly,  the  color  dark  in  his  face, 
the  blue  veins  near  his  temples  swelling,  and  with  an 
intensity  that  frightened  her. 

"  And  what  is  that  ? "  she  asked  coolly,  edging  a 
little  farther  away. 

"  A  greater  interest  in  a  girl,"  declared  Vandewater. 

Harriet  drew  a  long  breath.  She  wondered  whether 
he  was  going  to  ask  her  to  marry  him.  He  had  sent 
her  flowers,  of  course,  and  been  more  or  less  devoted, 
but  other  men  had  done  that  before,  and  the  result  had 
not  always  been  the  same.  Some  had  ended  by  asking 
her,  and  some  had  not.  She  sighed.  She  should  know 
25  [  385  ] 


The  Politician 

the  signs  of  a  proposal  by  this  time,  she  felt,  if  ex- 
perience was  the  teacher  it  purported  to  be ;  but  for  all 
that  she  was  quite  in  the  dark  as  to  whether  the  young 
man  before  her  was  really  on  the  verge  of  one  or  not. 
She  could  only  hope  not.  She  hated  to  refuse  people ; 
and  then,  of  course,  it  would  be  a  particularly  un- 
pleasant task  since  she  would  be  obliged  to  tell  him  that 
she  not  only  did  not  care  for  him  but  that  she  did 
care  for  some  one  else, —  for  George  Benton,  as  the 
case  happened  to  be.  A  throb  at  her  heart  as  she  made 
this  reflection  told  her  how  glad  she  was  that  this  was 
true,  that  she  did  care  for  George  Benton.  It  was  such 
a  safe,  comfortable  feeling! 

"  No,  it 's  because  you  think  that  you  're  going  to 
win  that  you  were  able  to  tear  yourself  away  from  hear- 
ing the  returns  long  enough  to  come  and  see  me  to- 
night," she  began,  striving  by  the  lightness  of  her  tone 
to  bring  the  conversation  back  to  less  serious  ground. 
*'  And  it  was  nice  of  you,  too !  You  knew,  of  course, 
that  I  was  interested  in  your  success ! " 

In  her  anxiety  to  accomplish  her  object  she  was  say- 
ing more  than  she  meant  or  felt,  for,  of  course,  she  was 
not  interested  in  his  success  as  long  as  it  meant  Verney's 
defeat. 

"  Yes,  I  do  think  I  'm  going  to  win ! "  agreed  Billy 
Vandewater,  rising  and  walking  up  and  down  agitatedly. 
"  I  think  we  've  got  'em  easy !  But  that  is  n't  why  I 
came  to-night, —  because  there  was  nothing  more  impor- 
tant to  keep  me ;  I  came  "  —  he  stopped  and  turned 
toward  her  suddenly  —  "  to  ask  you  to  marry  me !  " 

[386] 


"Not  Launcelot  or  Another" 

And  then  Harriet  understood.  She  saw  that  this 
young  man  —  for  whatever  reason,  whether  from 
enmity  toward  Verney,  from  ambition,  or  some  other 
motive  —  wanted  to  win  the  election  more  than  any- 
thing else  in  the  world,  although  he  thought  he  wanted 
more  to  marry  her;  and  that  he  was  at  that  moment 
convinced  he  would  win ;  under  which  circumstances  his 
vanity,  of  which  he  had  more  than  the  usual  share  of 
man,  had  demanded  that  he  should  win  the  girl  too.  A 
moderate  success  was  not  success  at  all  to  Vandewater. 
He  must  succeed  overwhelmingly,  or  not  at  all. 

It  was  evident  to  Harriet  that  although  he  might 
really  care  for  her  in  his  own  fashion,  it  was  more  his 
desire  to  be  all-conquering  that  had  inspired  him  to  ask 
her  to  marry  him,  and  it  was  this  ambition  to  be  vic- 
torious over  Verney  in  every  field,  both  in  politics  and 
love,  that  had  brought  him  to  her  that  night.  She  was 
to  be  his  crown  of  crowns,  the  topmost  feather  in  his 
cap,  gild  his  fine  gold  for  him.  And  while  she  did  him 
the  justice  to  believe  he  was  sincere  according  to  his 
lights  in  his  wish  to  marry  her,  this  knowledge  made 
it  easier  for  her  to  wake  him  from-,  his  dream. 

"  I  'm  sorry,  Mr.  Vandewater,"  sh\>  said  rising,  "  very 
sorry  to  hear  you  say  that,  for  I  can't  possibly  marry 
you ;  and  if  I  have  in  any  way  ^iven  you  reason  to  think 
I  would,  I  must  ask  you  to  forgive  \me.  I  've  been 
stupid  enough  not  to  realize  that  you  ws»  tied  me  to." 

She  let  him  have  it  by  degrees,  the  tifuth,  allowing 
him  to  grasp  the  idea  that  she  did  not  $are  for  him 
before  she  broke  the  news  that  she  did  care  for  some- 

[387] 


The  Politician 

one  else.  It  would  be  a  blow  to  him,  she  knew,  whether 
he  cared  deeply  for  her  or  not,  for  he  was  a  proud, 
imperious  man,  whose  great  fortune  enabled  him  to 
gratify  every  wish,  and  to  whom  the  word  "  refusal " 
was  a  stranger. 

The  color  died  out  of  his  face  now.  He  fixed  her 
with  a  long  stare  much  more  eloquent  of  anger  and 
disappointment  than  words  could  have  been. 

"  You  can't  marry  me  ?  "  he  repeated  with  an  inflec- 
tion almost  of  astonishment,  as  if  he  could  hardly  be- 
lieve that  such  a  thing  could  be  happening  to  him. 

"  I  'm  afraid  not,"  she  said  pityingly,  his  surprise 
was  so  ingenuous. 

His  dark,  red-veined  eyes  roved  over  her,  and  he  saw 
all  at  once  how  sweet  and  lovely  she  was,  how  desirable. 
He  forgot  all  about  the  election  and  his  hope  of  triumph- 
ing over  his  enemy  in  respect  to  this  girl  as  well  as  in 
respect  to  the  campaign. 

"  Why  not  ?  "  he  said,  his  voice  shaken  with  real  feel- 
ing. He  was  a  man  deeply  in  earnest  now. 

Harriet  saw  that  she  had  not  done  him  justice,  com- 
plete justice,  after  all.  He  was  capable  of  caring  more 
than  she  had  thought  he  could.  Genuine  compassion 
welled  up  into  her  Madonna  eyes. 

"  Because  I  'm  going  to  marry  some  one  else,"  she 
said  very  gently. 

The  coloi  /shed  on  a  sudden  back  into  Vandewater's 
face,  the  vei^  on  his  forehead  stood  out  more  alarm- 
ingly than  *ver. 

[388] 


"Not  Launcelot  or  Another" 

"  Not  —  not  —  Ellis  ?  "  he  said,  the  words  coming 
with  difficulty  through  his  shut  teeth. 

"  No,  not  Ellis,"  Harriet  said,  and  smiled  faintly  to 
see  the  instant  relief  that  spread  over  his  face ;  "  I  Jm 
engaged  to  Mr.  Benton." 

The  blow  was  a  severe  one,  but  if  it  had  to  be,  the 
young  man  was  thankful  that  at  least  that  mercy  had 
been  vouchsafed  him,  that  he  had  been  spared  the  intol- 
erable sting  of  losing  to  the  one  man  he  hated  to  lose  to, 
more  than  to  any  one  else  in  the  world.  The  thought 
enabled  to  take  his  leave  almost  with  a  light  heart. 

"  My  motor  is  waiting,"  he  said.  "  I  had  planned 
to  bring  you  back  to  my  office  to  hear  the  returns, — 
my  mother  and  a  lot  of  people  are  there ;  I  've  got  a 
special  wire,  you  know.  If  things  had  gone  as  I  hoped, 
that  is  — "  He  regarded  her  gravely. 

"  It 's  very  kind  of  you,"  faltered  Harriet,  more  dis- 
tressed for  having  upset  his  plan  than  for  having  refused 
to  be  his  wife,  and  very  thankful  that  he  was  going 
before  Verney  arrived. 

She  did  not  fancy  the  prospect  of  entertaining  both 
the  candidates  for  Attorney-general  at  the  same  time. 

"  It  does  n't  matter,"  said  the  young  man  pleasantly 
and  a  little  proudly.  "  Good-night." 

In  the  hall  below  as  he  was  going  out  he  encountered 
another  man  coming  in,  and  recognized  Verney,  as  the 
Politician,  half  an  hour  later  than  he  had  expected  to 
be,  breathlessly  asked  the  butler  for  Miss  Rand. 

The  two  having  been  brought  face  to  face  in  that  way 
[389] 


The  Politician 

could  hardly  avoid  speaking,  and  as  they  did  so  each  sur- 
veyed the  other  with  a  hostility  that  was  perfectly  appar- 
ent even  in  the  one  word  they  gave  each  other,  "  Even- 
ing." There  was  also  astonishment  in  both  their  faces, 
for  each  had  believed  the  other  to  be  at  the  headquarters 
of  his  party  getting  the  returns,  and  it  showed  the 
unusual  powers  of  attraction  of  the  girl  upstairs  that 
both  young  candidates  should  have  called  upon  her  on 
election  night. 

As  they  stood  eyeing  each  other  a  moment,  a  smile 
of  exultation  spread  suddenly  over  Vandewater's  face 
born  of  his  knowledge  that  if  Verney  was  on  the  same 
errand,  which  he  could  only  believe  to  be  the  case,  since 
he  was  not  aware  of  the  true  inwardness  of  the  situa- 
tion between  his  rival  and  Harriet,  and  since  no  other 
errand  seemed  important  enough  to  take  a  candidate  for 
election  from  the  scene  of  battle  at  that  hour,  it  would 
be  as  fruitless  as  his  own  had  been.  And  as  he  thought 
of  that,  Vandewater  could  almost  have  loved  George  Ben- 
ton  for  being  the  man  Miss  Rand  was  going  to  marry. 

The  smile  puzzled  Ellis  a  little ;  and  as  he  ran  up  the 
stairs  to  the  sitting-room,  glad  in  his  heart  that  Harriet 
had  not  chosen  to  receive  him  in  the  library,  which  he 
had  such  good  reason  to  remember  unpleasantly,  he 
wondered  why  it  was  such  a  triumphant  one;  but  he  at 
once  forgot  it  when  he  found  himself  in  the  girl's  pres- 
ence. 

"  What  can  I  do  for  you?"  he  asked,  clasping  her 
hand  eagerly. 

"  Nothing,"  she  said,  as  they  sat  down.  "  Did  you 
[390] 


"Not  Launcelot  or  Another" 

think  I  sent  for  you  only  because  I  wanted  something 
of  you?  " 

"  I  hoped  so,"  he  said  simply ;  "  I  like  to  do  things 
for  you." 

"  I  know  it,  or  you  would  n't  have  come  to-day  when 
it  was  such  a  very  important  time.  You  were  very 
good." 

"  Tell  me  what  you  wanted  to  talk  to  me  about,"  he 
said,  with  a  quick,  direct  look. 

She  gazed  at  him  a  moment  with  a  tenderness  that,  if 
it  could  be  said  of  so  young  and  distinctly  girlish- 
looking  a  girl,  was  almost  motherly. 

"  I  'm  going  to  get  married,  Verney,"  she  said. 

An  exclamation  that  she  did  not  exactly  catch,  but 
the  nature  of  which  she  guessed  was  profane,  escaped 
the  young  man,  who  started  violently. 

"  Not  Vandewater?  "  he  said,  remembering  on  the  in- 
stant the  look  of  triumph  in  his  rival's  face  when  they 
met  in  the  hall.  His  teeth  closed  fiercely  on  his  lower 
lip. 

"  No,"  she  answered  quickly,  remembering  for  her 
part  how  the  other  man  had  said,  "Not  Ellis?"  when 
he  had  heard  the  news  of  her  engagement.  She  smiled  a 
little  to  see  how  much  alike  men  were  after  all,  even  the 
most  unlike.  "  It 's  George  Benton,"  she  added. 

"  Ah ! "  Verney  said,  turning  his  face  away ;  and  then 
after  a  moment,  "  That 's  good,  that 's  fine.  He  's  one 
of  the  best.  I  think  the  world  of  him." 

There  was  another  pause.  Harriet  did  n't  know  why 
she  found  it  difficult  to  speak,  but  so  it  undeniably  was. 

[391] 


The  Politician 

"  I  was  afraid,"  Verney  continued,  "  it  was  the  other. 
I  'm  awfully  glad  it  is  n't." 

"  So  am  I.  But  you  know,"  she  shook  her  head, 
"  there  was  never  any  chance  of  that  from  the  begin- 
ning." 

They  said  very  little  more  on  the  subject  until  in  a 
few  minutes  Verney  rose  to  go ;  then  he  took  her  hand, 
pressed  it  warmly,  and  the  color  rose  to  his  high  cheek 
bones  and  the  bright  blue  of  his  eye  dimmed. 

"  I  am  very  poor  at  expressing  myself,"  he  said 
rather  huskily,  "  but  I  want  to  say,  what  I  want  to  tell 
you  is  that  I  wish  you  every  happiness  in  life,  and  that 
I  am  gladder  than  I  could  possibly  tell  you  that  you  're 
going  to  marry  so  fine  a  fellow  as  George  Benton." 

That  was  all  he  said,  but  Harriet  knew  what  was  in 
his  heart  —  that  while  he  was  sincerely  glad  she  was 
going  to  be  married,  he  yet  felt  a  little  lonely,  a  little 
as  if  he  had  lost  something  himself. 

"  Will  you  promise  me  something,"  she  said,  "  before 
you  go?  " 

"  Anything ;  what  is  it  ?  " 

She  backed  away  from  him,  her  hands  behind  her  like 
a  child  afraid  of  its  own  audacity. 

"  You  won't  like  it,  it 's  a  piece  of  advice,"  she  warned. 

"  Go  ahead,  I  would  take  anything  from  you ! " 

She  came  nearer  and  just  touched  his  sleeve  with  one 
finger. 

"  Then  here  it  is,"  said  she  solemnly :  "  Don't  —  let 
—  women  —  spoil  —  you !  "  And  as  he  started  a  little, 
"You  know  they  do.  They  run  after  you  and  make 

[392] 


"Not  Launcelot  or  Another" 

up  to  you  all  the  time,  and  if  you  don't  look  out  they  '11 
spoil  you.  Oh,  Verney,  do  be  careful !  " —  her  voice 
grew  more  anxious  —  "  I'm  so  afraid  if  you  're  not,  it 
will  interfere  some  day  with  your  work,  with  your  suc- 
cess in  politics." 

He  knew  what  she  meant,  and  that  it  was  true.  Too 
great  and  too  many  intimacies  with  women  had  been  the 
ruin  politically  of  more  than  one  man  before  now,  and 
he  nodded  gravely  in  acquiescence. 

Then  astonishment  overcame  him.  "  But  how  did 
you  know,"  he  asked  surprisedly,  "  that  they  —  that 
they—" 

"  That  they  spoiled  you  ?  "  she  finished  for  him,  and 
laughed  deliciously.  "  Why,  how  could  I  help  know- 
ing? You're  so  nice  to  look  at!"  But  she  had  in 
reality  told  by  subtler  signs  than  that.  He  would  have 
been  surprised,  perhaps,  if  he  had  known  that  so  long 
ago  as  their  talk  together  after  Mrs.  Cumloch's  dinner 
in  Lake  Forest,  at  the  very  beginning  of  their  acquaint- 
ance, the  girl  had  discovered  that  the  women  he  knew 
and  liked,  were  very  many,  and  the  women  who  knew 
and  liked  him  as  many  as  the  sands  of  the  sea. 

"  Take  care,"  he  advised,  and  laughing,  too,  "  or  you 
will  be  doing  that  yourself." 

"  Ah,  but  I  'm  an  old  friend,  a  privileged  friend. 
Isn't  that  different?" 

He  said  it  was.  Her  sweetness  was  beginning  to  be 
hard  to  bear. 

"  I  must  go,"  he  added ;  "  it 's  after  nine.  The  re- 
turns will  be  coming  in  fast  now." 

[893] 


The  Politician 

"  How  selfish  I  am,"  she  cried,  "  to  keep  you !  And 
oh,  I  do  hope,  I  do  hope  you  will  win !  " 

She  said  it  with  all  her  heart,  and  Verney  smiled 
radiantly. 

"  I  think  we  will,"  he  answered,  his  thoughts  with  the 
whole  Republican  party  rather  than  upon  the  result  of 
his  own  campaign  for  Attorney-general. 

"  And  if  you  do,  you  know  you  will  have  no  friend 
who  will  be  gladder  than  I,  don't  you  ?  " 

He  nodded,  and  then  said  consideringly, — 

"  Will  it  be  that  way,  do  you  think,  Harrie  —  after 
—  after  you  are  married?" 

She  looked  at  him  with  the  greatest  surprise. 

"  Why,  yes !  "  she  cried ;  "  the  only  difference  will  be 
that  then  you  will  have  two  to  be  glad  for  you  instead 
of  one.  George  worships  you  now,  you  know,  as  it  is. 
And  we  '11  always,  all  three  of  us,  be  the  best  friends  in 
the  world ! " 

He  smiled  gratefully  at  her.  "  The  best  in  the 
world !  "  he  repeated,  as  if  the  words  were  a  sort  of  talis- 
man. 


[394] 


CHAPTER  XXII' 

"l  ALWAYS  WANT  MOST  WHAT  I  CANNOT  HAVE" 

ONCE  in  the  street  again,  Ellis  stood  hesitating, 
and  then,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  he  should 
have  been  at  headquarters  and  that  all  the 
myriad  and  varied  noises  and  excitements  of  election 
night  in  New  York  beckoned  him,  he  gave  the  chauffeur 
of  his  taxicab  Mr.  Vernor's  address  and  sped  uptown. 

He  knew  that  his  uncle,  who  had  been  laid  up  for  a 
week  with  a  sprained  ankle,  would  be  at  home,  and  an 
overpowering  need  of  sympathy  compelled  him  to  go, 
for  he  knew,  too,  that  his  uncle  was  the  one  person  in 
the  world  whose  sympathy  would  be  welcome.  Did  ha 
not  care  for  Harriet  too?  That  alone  was  reason 
enough,  his  nephew  thought,  for  seeking  the  older  man's 
society  that  night;  although  he  could  not  have  said 
himself  in  so  many  words  what  it  was  that  he  wanted 
sympathy  for. 

Mr.  Vernor  —  who  was  sitting  by  a  table  loaded  with 
books  and  magazines  and  election  extras,  with  his 
bandaged  foot  on  a  chair,  trying  to  read  himself  into 
forgetfulness  of  the  irritating  accident  which  had  pre- 
vented him  from  going  down  to  his  club  to  get  the  re- 
turns—  was  very  glad,  indeed,  to  see  his  nephew, 
though  not  a  little  surprised. 

[395] 


The  Politician 

"  Hello ! "  he  said,  "  if  it  is  n't  the  young  candidate 
himself !  What  in  time,  James,  has  brought  you  so  far 
uptown  to-night?  " 

"  Don't  do  that ! "  said  Verney,  who  hated  to  be 
called  "  James."  He  then  subsided  into  a  big  chair  as 
suddenly  as  if  his  legs  had  given  way  beneath  him. 

The  older  man  stared  at  him  rather  curiously. 
"  How  's  the  election  going?  "  he  asked  next.  "  So 
far,"  and  he  indicated  the  paper  he  held  in  his  hand 
as  his  source  of  information,  "  I  should  say  it  was  all 
going  our  way." 

"  Yes  ?  "  said  Verney.  "  Well,  for  me,  I  'm  only  glad 
it's  over.  I  don't  care  much  how  it  comes  out." 

"  You  don't  care  ?  "  broke  in  his  uncle  in  an  amaze- 
ment that  was  half  indignant ;  "  are  you  out  of  your 
head?" 

Then,  as  if  he  really  feared  the  truth  of  his  accusa- 
tion, he  poured  out  some  whiskey  from  the  decanter  on 
a  little  stand  by  his  elbow. 

"  Here,"  he  said,  handing  his  nephew  a  little  glass ; 
"  take  that !  It 's  pretty  stiff,  but  you  need  it." 

"  I  '11  take  it,  if  you  say,"  returned  Verney,  "  but 
why  do  I  need  it  ?  " 

"  When  a  man  who  pretends  to  be  a  politician  —  who 
is  running  for  office  —  gets  as  far  away  from  the  bul- 
letin boards  as  you  are,  on  election  night,  and  says  he 
does  n't  care,  I  feel  reasonably  sure  he  needs  some- 
thing," answered  his  uncle  satirically,  "  and  the  chances 
are  it 's  a  drink." 

[396] 


'What  I  Cannot  Have" 

Verney  pushed  his  glass  away  from  him  unfinished,  a 
phenomenon  which  still  further  alarmed  the  other  man. 

"  I  'in  lonely,"  said  he ;  "  lonely,  Uncle  Ritchie." 

"  You  're  all  in,  you  mean,"  contradicted  Mr.  Vernor ; 
"  done  up  with  all  this  campaign  business.  And  I  don't 
wonder.  You  've  been  doing  the  work  of  twenty  men 
and  as  many  horses." 

"  Perhaps  that 's  it,"  said  Verney ;  but  although  he 
spoke  without  conviction,  his  uncle's  diagnosis  of  the 
case  was  partly  correct. 

The  strain  of  the  past  six  weeks  had  been  indeed 
so  great  as  to  render  the  young  man  physically  unfit 
to  wrestle  with  a  mental  or  moral  crisis  of  any  kind. 
And  the  realization  of  the  profound  loneliness  of  the 
career  he  had  elected,  did  partake  of  the  nature  of  a 
crisis  in  his  life.  The  news  of  Harriet's  engagement, 
while  it  cannot  be  said  to  have  made  him  in  any  sense  re- 
pent his  choice,  had  brought  that  realization  sharply  and 
definitely  home  to  him.  Although  he  was  perfectly  satis- 
fied with  his  existence  as  he  had  arranged  to  have  it,  and 
would  not  have  it  otherwise,  he  could  not  at  the  same 
time  be  free  from  a  feeling  of  loss,  a  sense  of  grief. 
It  would  not  endure  too  long  and  would  in  all  prob- 
ability presently  pass  into  the  limbo  of  things  that  have 
been,  but  it  was  giving  Ellis  a  bad  time  while  it  lasted. 
So  the  scourge  and  the  hair  shirt  wound  the  flesh  even 
while  the  spirit  soars. 

They  sat  and  smoked,  Verney  wrestling  with  his  in- 
subordinate feelings,  and  his  uncle  watching  the  process 

[397] 


The  Politician 

with  open  sympathy  and  covert  curiosity.  He  guessed 
it  had  something  to  do  with  Harriet,  but  he  did  not 
know  precisely  what  it  was  that  was  troubling  the 
younger  man. 

"  Sometimes  I  wonder  why  I  care  so  much  about 
politics,"  said  the  latter ;  "  sometimes  I  think  it 's  be- 
cause of  the  good  I  hope  to  do,  and  then  again,"  he  t 
lowered  his  voice  in  a  worried  way,  "  I  fear  it 's  only 
because  I  love  the  excitement  of  the  game.  After  all, 
you  know,  Uncle  Ritchie,  I  am  not  sure  it  is  possession 
so  much  a  man  wants,  as  the  fighting  for  it.  I  am  not 
sure,"  his  forehead  grew  puckered  with  the  effort  to 
express  clearly  what  he  wanted  to  say,  "  that  any- 
thing in  life  is  worth  having  for  its  own  sake;  I  think 
it 's  only  the  trying  to  get  it  that  counts." 

He  shook  his  head  sorrowfully  as  if  he  feared  this 
view  of  life  might  be  the  right  one,  and  as  if  it  dis- 
appointed him. 

"  Oh,  pshaw,  no !  "  said  his  uncle  briskly,  "  that 's  not 
it  at  all.  Life  's  got  a  great  deal  more  to  it  than  that 
—  it 's  a  great  deal  more  satisfactory.  Anyway,"  he 
added,  "  you  don't  really  think  that,  you  know,  Verney. 
You  think  you  do,  but  you  don't;  so  have  another 
drink!" 

He  pressed  a  glass  on  the  young  man.  It  was  the 
only  way  he  could  think  of  to  offer  consolation  for  this 
trouble,  which  had  not  been  fully  explained  to  him,  but 
which  he  concluded  at  length  he  understood.  He 
could  n't  see  how  any  man  could  help  regretting  that  he 
had  given  up  his  chance  with  a  girl  like  Harriet  Rand, 

[398] 


'What  I  Cannot  Have" 

and  this  he  knew  his  nephew  had  done.  That  his  regret 
should  come  over  him  more  particularly  on  election 
night  than  at  any  other  time,  seemed  also  natural  to 
Mr.  Vernor.  Did  not  election  night  mean  to  the  young 
man  the  things  for  which  he  had  given  up  love  ? 

"  I  think  I  won't  have  any  more,  thanks,"  Verney 
said  to  him,  rejecting  the  glass.  "  I  must  be  going  now. 
I  must  get  back  to  headquarters.  It  will  soon  be  time 
to  find  out  who  's  who." 

He  was  at  the  door  and  had  almost  gone  when  Mr. 
Vernor  found  his  crutches  and  hobbled  hurriedly  toward 
him. 

"  Good-night,"  he  said ;  and  then  wistfully,  almost 
fondly,  "  I  wish  I  could  help  you,  Verney." 

"  Oh,  no !  "  said  he,  "  there  's  nothing  really  anyone 
can  help  about.  There  's  nothing  the  matter,  you 
know,  Uncle  Ritchie,  it 's  only  " —  he  broke  off  and 
looked  suddenly  up  at  Mr.  Vernor  — "  that  I  always 
want  most  what  I  cannot  have." 

Mr.  Vernor  laid  his  hand  tenderly  on  the  young  man's 
shoulder. 

"  I  know,"  he  said ;  "  that 's  what  we  all  want,  boy." 

And  nodding  understandingly  at  each  other,  they 
parted. 

It  was  ten  by  the  time  Verney  found  himself  down- 
town. All  the  way  down  he  had  kept  watch  with  a 
kind  of  subconscious  eagerness  (for  his  mind  still  dwelt 
on  his  conversation  with  Mr.  Vernor  and  the  occasion 
of  it)  for  "  The  Herald's  "  monster  searchlight  which 
was  to  announce  the  identity  of  the  next  President  of 

[399] 


The  Politician 

the  United  States  and  the  next  Governor  of  New  York, 
from  the  top  of  the  Metropolitan  Life  Insurance  Build- 
ing. 

If  the  Republican  Presidential  candidate  were  elected, 
it  was  arranged  that  the  light  should  be  flashed  to  the 
north;  if  the  Democratic  candidate,  to  the  south;  and 
if  the  Republican  candidate  for  Governor  were  elected, 
it  was  to  be  flashed  to  the  west;  if  the  Democratic,  to 
the  east. 

Verney  left  the  automobile  within  a  block  or  two  of 
Herald  Square,  for  the  difficulty  of  getting  through  the 
crowd  was  great  and  he  thought  he  should  do  better 
on  foot.  At  State  headquarters  he  knew  he  should  find 
Tommy  Beekman,  Oliver  Ordway,  and  other  loyal  Re- 
publicans engrossed  in  the  business  of  getting  the  totals 
of  missing  Districts,  which  was  more  important  to  them 
than  blowing  tin  horns  and  otherwise  taking  part  in  the 
merrymaking  of  the  city,  but  it  was  so  late  he  felt 
obliged  to  abandon  his  original  plan  of  joining  them. 
Instead,  he  thought  it  wisest  to  make  for  the  nearest 
bulletin  board,  as  former  experience  had  taught  him  that 
the  struggle  was  usually  over  by  eleven  o'clock  and  the 
result  of  the  election  might  be  announced  at  any  moment. 
Once  on  his  feet  he  found  himself  suddenly  engulfed  in 
the  inferno  of  noise  and  light  that  is  Broadway  on 
election  night.  That  night  the  great  thoroughfare 
makes  peculiarly  its  own,  taking  unto  itself  the  various 
dissimilar  and  component  parts  of  carnival,  noise,  color, 
and  confusion;  and  though  always  brilliant,  adds  to 
its  brilliance  by  more  electric  light  signs  than  there  are 

[400] 


'What  I  Cannot  Have" 

stars  in  the  Milky  Way.  Verney,  gasping  like  a  man 
who  has  just  gotten  his  head  above  water  after  a  plunge 
into  the  sea,  turned  up  the  street  toward  Herald  Square 
only  to  find  that  at  that  moment  the  street  itself  seemed 
to  be  coming  down.  A  solid  wave  of  horn-blowing,  bell- 
ringing,  rattle-shaking  humanity  composed  of  laugh- 
ing women  and  shouting  men,  met  him,  where  he 
struggled  for  space  to  proceed,  with  the  force  of  a  blow. 

Escaping  with  difficulty  the  efforts  of  a  line  of  men 
in  lock-step  who  seemed  determined  to  sweep  him  before 
them  in  their  path,  he  fought  his  way  on  through  a 
crowd  so  great  that  it  filled  the  sidewalks  from  curb  to 
wall,  and  made  passage  for  motors  and  cabs  in  the  road- 
way impossible.  He  soon  saw  that  if  he  were  to  get 
anywhere  that  night  he  must  follow  the  example  of  some 
enterprising  men  who  had  evidently  set  themselves  to  the 
task  of  realizing  that  ambition,  and  were  walking  on 
the  car  tracks  in  the  wake  of  a  bumping,  gong-ringing 
street  car,  and  proceeding  slowly  but  surely.  With  his 
coat  collar  turned  up  against  the  shower  of  confetti 
which  the  people  hurled  at  each  other  from  all  sides,  with 
vendors  of  rattles,  bells,  and  horns  importuning  him  at 
every  step,  and  obliged  to  duck  his  head  in  order  to 
avoid  the  attentions  of  sundry  light-hearted  merrymakers 
who  seemed  intent  upon  smashing  his  hat  for  him,  the 
young  man  at  last  gained  the  car  tracks  and  in  this 
fashion  made  his  way  up  Broadway  to  the  Square. 

There  as  he  gained  the  sidewalk  he  stopped  and 
bought  a  paper  of  a  little  girl  standing  on  the  corner. 
He  did  n't  really  want  the  paper,  for  the  latest  news 
[  401  ] 


The  Politician 

was  being  blazoned  on  the  glowing  rectangles  in  front 
of  the  Herald  Building  on  the  other  side  of  the  Square, 
and  he  was  on  his  way  to  read  it ;  but  he  bought  it  be- 
cause it  struck  him  even  in  the  midst  of  his  busy 
thoughts,  his  preoccupation  with  other  matters,  that  it 
was  a  piteous  thing  to  find  a  little  girl,  a  child  not  ten 
years  old,  selling  papers  at  that  hour  in  that  danger- 
ously hilarious  throng,  the  press  of  which  was  so 
tremendous  that  even  grown  men  found  it  difficult  to 
withstand. 

"  Thank  you ! "  he  said  with  his  charming  smile,  as 
the  little  thing  handed  him  up  an  extra  with  a  look  of 
wonder  on  her  shawl-enveloped  face  that  he  had  taken 
time  for  the  courtesy.  And  then  he  saw  that  her  hands 
were  bare  and  blue  with  the  cold,  for  a  bitter  November 
wind  was  blowing.  Half  mechanically  and  without 
hesitation,  Verney  stripped  the  warm  heavy  gloves  from 
his  own  hands  and  thrust  them  toward  her. 

"  Here,"  he  said ;  "  put  these  on.  You  can't  sell 
papers  all  night  with  nothing  on  your  hands,  you  know. 
It  »s  too  cold." 

And  he  helped  her  to  put  them  on.  They  were  large, 
of  course,  but  the  patent  fasteners  at  the  wrist  kept  them 
from  slipping  off.  The  child  was  delighted  and  shrilled 
a  grateful  acknowledgment  of  his  kindness  as  the  young 
man  turned  away. 

Just  at  that  moment,  as  he  again  faced  the  Herald 

Building,  the  bell-ringers  on  the  cornice  announced  the 

hour  of  eleven  o'clock  in  metallic  consonance  of  sound ; 

and  as  if  it  had  only  been  waiting  for  that  hour  to  ar- 

[  402  ] 


'What  I  Cannot  Have" 

rive,  as  if  the  bells  had  been  the  cue  for  its  entrance 
upon  the  vast  arena  of  the  sky,  "  The  Herald's " 
gigantic  searchlight  from  the  lofty  altitude  of  the 
Metropolitan  Building  blocks  away,  shot  its  great  beams 
across  the  clear,  dark  heavens.  In  the  wide  plaza  be- 
fore the  Sun,  World,  and  Tribune  Buildings  far  down- 
town, in  Herald  Square  and  Times  Square,  in  upper 
Broadway  and  lower  Broadway,  in  the  residence  district 
uptown  as  far  out  as  the  Bronx  and  Harlem,  the  great 
light  signalled  to  waiting  thousands.  Within  a  radius 
of  fifty  miles  about  the  city,  from  Morristown  to  Ron- 
konkoma,  from  Newburg  to  Sea  Girt,  and  even  beyond, 
its  message  flashed. 

Verney  felt  his  heart  constrict  as  a  tremendous  roar 
went  up  from  the  crowd  about  him  in  answer  to  that 
great  beam  of  light  shooting  to  the  north  which  an- 
nounced the  election  of  the  Republican  candidate  for 
President.  Would  the  Republican  party  be  as  victori- 
ous in  the  State  election?  Would  his  friend  Ordway  be 
elected  Governor  of  New  York?  That  was  after  all  his 
chief  concern,  the  most  vital  question  of  the  night  to 
him.  It  meant,  he  was  convinced,  the  beginning  of  a 
new  era  in  politics,  a  better  and  purer  era,  if  the  young 
Speaker  of  the  House  at  Albany  should  be  established 
in  the  executive  mansion  there.  He  had  hardly  time  to 
frame  these  thoughts  before  the  great  light  signalled 
the  waiting  throng  again. 

The  result  of  the  State  elections  had  been  determined 
beyond  the  possibility  of  change,  and  while  the  massed 
thousands  around  him  cheered  with  only  a  little  less  en- 
[  403  ] 


The  Politician 

thusiasm  than  they  had  displayed  over  the  result  of  the 
Presidential  election,  the  white  beacon  of  the  search- 
light flashed  directly  to  the  west. 

Ordway  had  won. 

There  were  only  two  more  things  that  Verney  wanted 
to  find  out  that  night, —  how  his  District  had  done,  and 
what  was  the  name  of  the  man  who  had  been  elected 
Attorney-general  of  New  York.  He  could  n't  help 
being  interested  in  the  latter,  he  owed  it  to  his  party 
to  hope  that  he  had  won ;  and  then,  he  had  worked  very 
hard,  very  conscientiously,  over  the  campaign.  He 
rather  expected  to  find,  nevertheless,  that  Vandewater  was 
victor  in  that  contest,  and  it  was  in  anticipation  of  that 
discovery,  with  a  great  pang  like  despair,  that  he  looked 
up  at  the  bulletin  boards  before  the  Herald  Building 
when  he  had  fought  his  way  around  the  square  to  the 
front  of  the  big  crowd  that  faced  them. 

Fully  prepared  to  find  the  name  of  his  rival  inscribed 
after  the  words,  "  For  Attorney-general,"  he  was  there- 
fore greatly  astonished  to  find  instead  the  name,  "  James 
Vernor  Ellis."  The  surprise  of  it  fairly  staggered 
him,  and  for  a  moment  he  was  unable  to  read  the  figures 
that  told  the  total  of  votes  and  by  what  majority  he 
had  won.  For  a  brief  and  dazzling  space  of  time  the 
moment  meant  all  it  should  have  meant  to  Verney.  He 
knew  then,  as  he  stared  up  at  those  astonishing  figures 
on  the  bulletin  board  that  proved  he  had  won  the  cam- 
paign for  Attorney-general,  that  he  had  never  really 
expected  to  win,  and  that  to  find  he  had  was  the  greatest 
joy  a  human  being  could  experience. 
[  404  ] 


'What  I  Cannot  Have" 

In  his  most  buoyant  moments  he  had  never  succeeded 
in  imagining  what  it  would  be  like  to  taste  the  cup  of 
success  he  was  tasting  then.  But  now  as  he  stood  on 
the  edge  of  that  great  concourse  of  people  that  filled 
the  air  with  din  of  every  description,  the  most  wonder- 
ful feeling  of  content  came  over  him.  He  felt  as  if 
life,  after  keeping  one  hand  behind  its  back  a  long 
while,  had  suddenly  held  out  the  other  hand  to  him; 
as  if  while  withholding  something  from  him  it  had 
given  him  something  else  which,  if  not  so  precious  as 
love  (and  as  to  that  question  Verney  was  yet  uncertain), 
was  at  least  his  heart's  desire. 

He  was  terribly  tired.  He  closed  his  eyes,  standing 
just  where  he  was  with  the  multitude  pressing  on  all 
sides  of  him,  and  saw  as  in  a  vision  a  great  army  of 
soldiers  riding  by  as  if  returning  from  a  victorious  bat- 
tle field,  and  on  the  banners  in  their  midst  he  saw  "  Politi- 
cal Purity  "  and  "  Reformed  Party  "  inscribed.  And 
he  saw,  too  (for  he  was  very  human  and  normal,  his 
mood  when  he  talked  with  his  uncle  and  told  him  he 
did  n't  care  about  the  elections,  being  the  only  thing 
about  him  that  was  abnormal),  himself  and  his  friend 
Oliver  Ordway  riding  at  the  head  of  it.  Then  close  on 
that  wave  of  exaltation  or  exultation,  he  did  n't  know 
which  it  was,  came  one  of  reaction,  and  he  was  conscious 
again  of  that  feeling  of  loss  that  had  overwhelmed  him 
immediately  upon  learning  of  Harriet's  engagement  to 
George  Benton. 

There  were  plenty  of  places  where  he  could  have  gone 
that  night  and  found  friends  to  rejoice  with  him  on 
[  405  ] 


The  Politician 

his  election.  Some  men  he  knew  were  giving  a  party 
for  the  purpose  of  getting  the  returns,  in  the  Century 
Club,  where  a  special  wire  had  been  run  in ;  and  in  a 
certain  broker's  office  from  the  windows  of  which  the 
bulletins  in  front  of  the  Times  Building  were  visible, 
Mrs.  Ordway  was  acting  as  chaperon  for  a  large  gather- 
ing of  girls  and  young  men.  In  still  another  office  with 
other  friends,  he  knew  he  should  find  his  sister  Carol; 
and  Beekman  and  the  Governor-elect  were  assuredly  to 
be  found  at  State  headquarters.  But  Verney  eschewed 
them  all.  He  went  instead  first  to  his  District  head- 
quarters and  then  directly  home,  and  arrived  at  the  house 
in  Twelfth  Street  before  midnight,  although  the  vast 
crowds  downtown  did  not  cease  celebrating  the  result 
of  the  elections  for  another  three  hours. 

As  he  passed  the  door  of  Mr.  Ellis's  room,  his  father's 
anxious  voice  hailed  him  to  ask  if  he  had  won ;  and 
though  Verney  knew  that  it  meant  to  his  father  more 
than  the  mere  winning,  that  it  meant  Verney's  freedom 
from  financial  difficulties,  he  found  that  the  glow  of 
victory  had  departed,  and  that  there  was  no  great  satis- 
faction after  all  in  answering  that  he  had. 

In  his  own  room,  on  his  table,  when  he  had  lit  the  gas, 
he  found  on  top  of  a  pile  of  letters  a  telegram  from 
his  brother-in-law  Lawrence  Presbey  in  Chicago,  wish- 
ing him  the  best  of  luck  in  the  outcome  of  the  elections ; 
and  near  it  on  a  tray  he  discovered  a  little  luncheon  of 
sandwiches  and  cake  with  a  note  from  his  mother  saying 
she  thought  he  might  be  hungry  when  he  came  in  and 
she  had  brought  it  up  for  him  herself.  Verney  was 
[  406  ] 


'What  I  Cannot  Have" 

touched.  Nanna  had  been  used  to  perform  that  little 
service  for  him;  it  was  very  kind  of  his  mother  to  do 
it  now,  and  he  knew  she  was  thinking  of  his  old  nurse 
when  she  did  it.  Everybody  was  very  kind  indeed,  and 
he  only  wondered  a  little  that  their  kindness  seemed  to 
make  him  feel  so  little  the  happier. 

He  took  up  his  letters  next,  and  perceiving  that  one 
was  from  Chicago  in  his  sister  Cornelia's  handwriting, 
opened  it  half  mechanically.  He  supposed  it  was  to 
wish  him  "  good  luck  "  as  her  husband's  telegram  had 
been ;  and  it  was,  at  least  in  part. 

He  smiled  as  he  read  the  would-be  enthusiastic  expres- 
sions of  interest  in  the  possibility  of  his  election  which 
Mrs.  Presbey  had  tried  so  hard  not  to  make  perfunctory. 
Cornelia  was  not  and  never  had  been  interested  in  his 
political  career,  he  knew,  had  quite  disapproved  of  it 
in  fact,  though  he  thought  too  that  it  was  good  of  her 
to  pretend  an  interest  she  could  not  feel.  The  close  of 
the  letter  was  what  caught  Verney's  attention. 

"  What  on  earth  made  you  treat  Harriet  Rand  as 
you  have  ?  "  the  lady  wanted  to  know.  "  She  was  crazy 
about  you  when  she  went  to  New  York;  and  when  she 
came  home  that  time  and  stayed  in  Lake  Forest,  a  few 
weeks  ago,  I  saw  her,  and  I  could  tell  then  that  it  was 
all  over.  Something  had  happened  to  change  her  mind ; 
and  I  can  only  surmise  it  was  something  you  had  done, 
the  way  you  had  behaved. 

"  Now  what  a  little  idiot  you  are,  Verney  " —  Cornelia 
was  some  six  years  older  than  her  brother  — "  to  throw 
away  a  chance  like  that  to  marry  a  rich  girl  as  nice  a* 
[  407  ] 


The  Politician 

Harriet !  I  'd  like  to  know  what  you  did  it  for.  On  ac- 
count of  your  silly  old  politics,  I  suppose.  [This  one 
remark  made  him  feel  he  was  justified  in  doubting  the 
sincerity  of  her  interest  in  the  outcome  of  his  cam- 
paign.] But  of  course  I  could  n't  expect  a  brother 
of  mine  to  have  sense  enough  to  fall  in  love  with  an 
heiress ! " 

The  Politician  laid  down  the  letter  with  a  sigh.  Sis- 
ters were  an  awful  bother  sometimes,  awful  busybodies. 
But,  thank  goodness,  he  did  n't  have  to  order  his  life 
to  suit  Cornelia!  He  smiled  with  grim  enjoyment  to 
think  how  angry  she  would  be  if  she  knew  that  at  that 
very  moment  the  heiress  in  question  was  engaged  to 
George  Benton.  Then  he  passed  his  hand  wearily  over 
his  forehead.  It  was  getting  too  much  for  him,  this 
trouble  and  doubt  in  his  heart.  He  supposed  he  must 
presently  go  to  bed  and  sleep,  but  at  the  moment  he  felt 
impelled  to  go  over  and  stand  under  the  portrait  of 
Abraham  Lincoln  on  the  east  wall,  passing  as  he  did 
so  and  without  so  much  as  a  look  at  it,  that  other  por- 
trait on  the  opposite  wall  of  the  great  Emperor  of  the 
French. 

Into  the  presence  of  the  great  Emancipator  —  of  that 
supreme  patriot  who  knew  before  all  men  what  self-sacri- 
fice meant,  whose  very  life  had  not  been  considered  too 
big  a  price  to  pay  for  the  privilege  of  serving  his  fel- 
low men  —  the  young  man  came,  fresh  from  having 
made  offering  on  that  same  altar  of  self-sacrifice,  fresh 
from  the  renunciation  of  his  sweetest  hope  of  earthly  hap- 
piness, to  ask  of  the  one  man  who  knew,  if  he  had  done 

[  408  ] 


6 What  I  Cannot  Have" 

well.  For  a  moment  he  gazed  earnestly  up  into  the 
rugged  features  of  the  face  above  him  upon  which  the 
bereavement  of  a  nation  had  forever  chiselled  itself,  and 
then  —  his  youth  the  more  apparent  for  his  worn  look 
and  tired  eyes  —  he  bent  his  head  and  bowed  his  shoulders 
as  if  himself  bereaved. 

And  Lincoln  gazed  kindly  down  upon  the  sorrowful, 
drooping  figure  beneath  him,  as  if  he  understood  the 
magnitude  of  the  sacrifice  which  his  disciple  had  made 
for  the  hope  of  realizing  an  unselfish  ideal,  and  as  if 
in  this  young  man  who  was  a  professed  politician  he 
recognized  a  patriot. 


THE    END 


[  409  J 


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Prodigal  Son,  The.    By  Hall  Caine. 

Quickening,  The.    By  Francis  Lynde. 

Richard  the  Brazen.    By  Cyrus  T.  Brady  and  Edw.  Pepla 

Rose  of  the  World.    By  Agnes  and  Egerton  Castle. 

Running  Water.    By  A.  E.  W.  Mason. 

Santa  the  Carlist.    By  Arthur  W.  Marchmont. 

Seats  of  the  Mighty,  The.     By  Gilbert  Parker. 

Sir  Nigel.     By  A.  Conan  Doyle. 

Sir  Richard  Calmady.     By  Lucas  Malet 

Speckled  Bird,  A.    By  Augusta  Evans  Wilson. 


Popular  Copyright  Books 

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Wayfarers,  The.    By  Mary  Stewart  Cutting. 
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Mistress  of  Brae  Farm,  The.    By  Rosa  N.  Carey. 
Explorer,  The.    By  William  Somerset  Maugham. 
Abbess  of  Vlaye,  The.    By  Stanley  Weyman. 
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Bar  20.    By  Clarence  E.  Mulford. 
Beloved  Vagabond,  The.    By  William  J.  Locke. 
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